Neil Beckett reports on the 2024 Burgundy vintage.

As a Scot who grew up on the country’s Atlantic coast, I was able to express what I hope came across as genuine sympathy when listening to the many tales of weather woe related by Burgundy vignerons after the exceptionally challenging and wet 2024 growing season. But persistent rain never made the difference to me that it made to all of them last year, and I was reminded of how humble and stoical vignerons need to be if they are to retain their sanity; they have to care deeply, to make every effort, almost every day, for months... and yet if Mother Nature doesn’t smile on them—and in 2024, she seemed to spit on them—they need somehow to accept it.

I imagine that in 2024 that must have been especially hard for Ludivine Griveau, régisseur of the Domaine des Hospices de Beaune since the 2015 vintage—not only because of the charitable dimension and the extent of the domaine (140 plots across 60ha [150 acres], from Chablis, to the Mâconnais), and therefore the weight of the responsibility, but also because after three years of being in conversion, this was the first vintage when its wines would be certified organic. But despite this cruel irony (Mother Nature seeming to sneer, as well as spit), Griveau managed to rise above it, writing in her candid, insightful, and philosophical annual report, “Because this vintage is unlike any other, because it will remain (for a long time) etched in our memories as winemakers, and finally, because it has given us the opportunity to measure just how fragile our knowledge, not to mention our certainties, can be, it truly deserves the term ‘experimental’ […] As we navigated our path toward organic certification, this vintage pushed us into a journey that was undoubtedly unpredictable but, in hindsight, exhilarating. Robustness, tenacity, and mobilization have formed the foundation of this extraordinary experience; much like in a hospital, we had to coexist with the pressure of adversity […] The multiple episodes of harvest loss in 2024 leave no room for regret: We did everything we could in time, without human or technical errors, with unwavering commitment… Sometimes we must deconstruct a model of knowledge we thought perfect to rebuild everything for the future… like an experiment.” 

The following account of the 2024 Burgundy growing season draws on Griveau’s report, as well as that of Jeannie Cho Lee MW, the specialist wine consultant to Sotheby’s, auction partner of the Hospices de Beaune since 2021; and that of the Bureau Interprofessionnel des Vins de Bourgogne (BIVB).

2024 Burgundy: Abnormal again the new normal

The BIVB’s 2023 harvest report emphasized that “Year after year, the exceptional is becoming the norm.” This also applied fully to 2024 Burgundy, summarized by the BIVB thus: “In [Burgundy], in common with much of France, this year was characterized by unusual weather, with rainfall far above average, though unevenly distributed. Added to this, there were episodes of frost and hail—localized but severe. These conditions created greater pressure from disease, requiring immense efforts throughout the growing season to protect the crop. Harvesting was later than in recent years, concluding at the end of September. Although the potential harvest quantity was reduced, the maturity level of the harvested grapes, combined with the expertise of the winemakers, heralds a quality vintage.”

Looking at the growing season in a little more detail, the 2023/24 Burgundy winter was mild and wet, with average temperatures higher than usual (+1.9°C [3.4°F]) for the third consecutive year, while rainfall from October to March reached 671mm (26.4in), nearly twice the normal level (362mm [14.3in]). February was especially mild (+3.6°C [6.5°F] on average), but so, too, was the second half of March (+2.7°C [4.9°F] on average), which brought about an early budbreak—as early as March 22, but mostly over the warm Easter weekend of March 30–31.

The early start to the season—at this stage ten days ahead of the 20-year norm—continued into April, which made all the more damaging the frosts that gripped some vineyards in Chablis, the southern Côte de Beaune, and the Côte Chalonnaise when temperatures tumbled—the first of several episodes that would eventually greatly reduce yields. The second was the devastating hail that struck on May 1, affecting some 2,000ha (4,950 acres) and hitting Chablis hardest, leading to losses ranging from 60% to 100%, including grand and premier cru climats. Hail remained a scourge throughout the season, all the way through to early August, storms striking not only Chablis but also the Côte d’Or and the Mâconnais. Even in areas not affected by hail, the rain was unrelenting, with 550mm (21.7in) from January to May, against an average of 220mm (8.7in), and only 528 hours of sunshine compared to the usual 706. Griveau laments that it had been the fourth-wettest spring since 1959: “Boots and rain gear proved worthwhile!”

Flowering started in early June and was largely over by the middle of the month, but the wet weather caused coulure (poor fruit set) and millerandage (uneven grape size), which limited potential yields. Temperatures rose in Burgundy in the second half of June, but so, too, did losses to downy mildew, as it was the fifth consecutive month of above-average rainfall—a record 120mm (4.7in), 50% higher than usual. Veraison started in the Côte d’Or around July 20 and was mostly over by the end of the month, when temperatures rose further. But downy mildew remained a risk, and now there was also the threat of powdery mildew. Constant vigilance was needed in the vineyards, and as rain repeatedly washed off the copper and sulfur sprays used to fight the mildew, those with the necessary resources had to repeat the treatments—up to 16 times across the Hospices de Beaune vineyards.

August brought some respite, as conditions finally became drier as well as warmer, which helped the grapes to ripen, though unusually the Chardonnay generally needed longer than the Pinot Noir. The weather changed again toward the end of the month and into the first week of September, as the rain returned, though more fell in the Côte de Nuits than in the Côte de Beaune. Grapes for still wines were picked from September 12, and the harvest was completed during the middle two weeks of September, when there was a final spell of favorable weather in Burgundy, before the rain set in again during the last week of the month.

Alcohol levels were lower than usual, and rigorous sorting was necessary to ensure quality—Griveau estimates that the Domaine des Hospices de Beaune sacrificed between 3% and 5% of the crop at this stage. But she is sure that it was well worth it. “I bet you won’t find any mention of a ‘vintage of the century’—except perhaps in reference to downy mildew! But the wines are very good, they are organic, and they have the merit of showing us a new path. The white wines are upright and pure, with acidity faithful to the noblest qualities of fine Burgundy Chardonnay. The red wines are colorful, with bright and intense fruit, and tannins that can be robust yet round.” At the tasting of all the Hospices de Beaune cuvées before the sale, the wines were indeed showing very well, with no sign of the difficulties of the growing season.

Records and surprises

The Hospices de Beaune charity wine auction was held at its traditional time on the third Sunday in November. Some 700 people packed the salesroom in the Halle de Beaune, with others bidding remotely from 32 countries (nearly 40% up on the 24 countries in 2023) and a record number of registrants. This was the fourth auction organized by Sotheby’s, which, prior to the sale, had showcased the wines in more than 20 cities worldwide.

At the 164th Hospices de Beaune sale on November 17, 2024, it was able to offer all 51 of its cuvées (33 red and 18 white)—a remarkable achievement given the losses throughout the season, and one of which Griveau was rightly proud, though she credited her team and their vineyard work.

But while all the cuvées were present, quantities of some were very small. The total of 449 lots (including seven barrels of spirits) was down markedly on the 753 in 2023 and the 820 in 2022, though still higher than the 362 in frost-struck 2021. The 321 barrels of red wine and 117 barrels (plus three half-barrels) of white wine raised €14,404,200 / $15,183,722. Including the Presidents’ Barrel, donated by the Hospices every year since 1978 to other charitable causes, a total of €15.5 million / $16.3 million was raised, including buyers’ premiums.

The results were led by three barrels of Bâtard-Montrachet Grand Cru, Cuvée Dames de Flandres, which sold for €355,000 each, a new record for this wine. The average hammer price per barrel (for red and white wines) was €31,540, a small increase on last year (€30,839), but well down on the records set in 2022 (€36,133) and, before that, in 2021 (€34,980). Most Burgundy négociants and observers were relieved that prices did not rise more steeply, hoping it would again send a signal to the wider market—but it is too early to say how that might be received.

The 2024 Presidents’ Barrel was a unique Beaune Premier Cru Les Bressandes, which is normally used for four other cuvées (Nicolas Rolin, Guigone de Salins, Dames Hospitalières, and Brunet). Griveau gave the following explanation: “Within our estate, Beaune Premier Cru truly stands out this year, both in terms of the quantity produced and the quality. We felt it was important that our choice reflected this. It also represents a significant proportion of our vineyard, making our choice even more fitting. Grands crus have been in the spotlight in recent years—it’s time to focus on an appellation closer to our history!” A grand cru had indeed been chosen for all but one of the previous 12 Presidents’ Barrels, although four Beaune premiers crus had been selected between 2005 and 2010.

The 2024 Presidents’ Barrel was acquired by Alaor Pereira Lino—owner of Anima Vinum in Brazil, who has been participating in the sale for 25 years and who has created a museum dedicated to the Hospices de Beaune—for €360,000, already €10,000 more than the price realized by a barrel of Mazis-Chambertin Grand Cru the previous year. In a surprise twist, a member of the audience raised her hand once the hammer had fallen, pledging a further €100,000 to the causes championed by the sale of the barrel. Joining the auctioneers on the rostrum, Francine Picard, of Domaines Famille Picard (based in Chassagne-Montrachet), explained that, though she had been attending the auction for years, “For the first time ever, this year I attended the press conference on the morning of the sale, and I felt so moved when I saw the video for the Global Gift Foundation and the children affected by circumstances outside of their control.” Her contribution took the total raised for charities other than the Hospices de Beaune to €460,000—an increase of more than 30% on the previous year.

The two humanitarian associations benefiting from the sale of the Presidents’ Barrel are the Global Gift Foundation—established in 2013 by Spanish actress, businesswoman, and philanthropist María Bravo with the aim of creating a positive impact on the lives of children, women, and families, and represented at the sale by actors Eva Longoria and Jean Reno; and Médecins Sans Frontières—founded in 1971 by doctors and journalists to provide medical assistance to people whose health or lives are threatened in France or abroad, and supported by actors Dominic West and Zabou Breitman.

The other funds raised by the sale will be used by the Hospices de Beaune to finance its major ongoing structural projects, including the construction of a new hospital (due to open in 2028). 

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Caroline Frey and Peter Gago introduce Neil Beckett to 2021 Grange La Chapelle, a blend which seems at once almost unimaginable and written in the stars.

Origin, identity, individuality, quality—all are crucial questions for fine wine. And they are particularly searching, stimulating questions to ask of this new one, the prodigious Syrah/Shiraz offspring of two very distinguished parents: Domaine de la Chapelle’s Hermitage La Chapelle and Penfolds Grange.

It is in many ways a very modern wine, the brainchild of two adventurous, broad-minded, well-educated, well-traveled winemakers: Caroline Frey, whose family owns, among other wine estates, Domaine de la Chapelle and Paul Jaboulet Aîné, the négociant house that made Hermitage La Chapelle famous through legendary vintages such as the 1961 and 1978; and Peter Gago, chief winemaker at Penfolds since 2002, the creator of Grange, Australia’s most famous wine, and curator of the rest of the company’s unparalleled range, to which he has added several remarkable wines. This latest is modern not least in that it would never have been possible without the many new techniques and tools used in its production.

But both parents of this modern wine have a distinguished lineage and much older origins. La Chapelle derives its name from the Chapel of St Christopher, built in the 13th century at the top of the great Hill of Hermitage by a crusader chevalier-turned-vigneron, Henri-Gaspard de Stérimberg; it was acquired in 1919 by the Jaboulet family, whose company had been created in 1834. (It was purchased by the Frey family in 2006.) The magnificent, multifaceted terroirs here have soils dating back some 200 million years, to the Secondary Era, and most of the biodynamically cultivated vines are between 60 and 100 years old. As a company, Penfolds is almost as old, dating its establishment to the purchase of what is now Magill Estate in Adelaide, South Australia, by Dr Christopher Penfold in 1844. The first (experimental) vintage of Grange, created by visionary winemaker Max Schubert, was 1951, and some of the Barossa Valley fruit used for it today is from some of the world’s oldest vines. 

“Who would have thought?”

The marriage negotiations that would eventually give rise to the new wonder child were initiated by Peter Gago. His brilliantly creative mind (he had been a chemistry and math teacher before switching to wine and graduating top of his class at Roseworthy) had already come up with several highly innovative wines. To take only a few of the most striking examples: blends of different vintages of Grange (the G series) and different vintages of the top white wine, Bin 144 Yattarna Chardonnay (V); and cross-continent blends of Australian and Bordeaux wines (Penfolds II Cabernet Sauvignon), as well as of Australian and California wines (Bin 149 Cabernet Sauvignon, “Wine of the World”). Even so, the idea of blending Australia’s most iconic wine with one of France’s, was daringly imaginative and inevitably, if not intentionally, provocative. “Who would have thought?” as he himself asked at the launch and in the press release. To which the answer is clearly, Only he.

Caroline Frey admitted candidly and modestly that it would never have been she. “As a vine grower, as a winemaker [...] I would never even have dared to imagine it. No one in the world has ever blended two such legendary terroirs. It’s like Picasso and Dalí painting on the same canvas—an idea so extraordinary, it almost feels too incredible to be real.” And yet when, in the course of their friendship, Peter popped the question, she was probably far more receptive to it than many producers of such a famous French wine would be. As a graduate of the enology faculty at the Unversity of Bordeaux who worked closely with Denis Dubourdieu as a consultant, she holds impeccable credentials as a fully qualified winemaker—and she had many years of experience at Château La Lagune before making the wine at Jaboulet as well from 2006. (She also makes wine in Burgundy and the Valais.) But she is not from a French winemaking family—rather, from a Swiss family of financiers—which may have made her more open to novel ideas. And she had already revealed a willingness to challenge convention and experiment with new ideas through some of her own wines—most notably and significantly Duo, a 50/50 blend of Château La Lagune and Hermitage La Chapelle, which she describes as her homage to the older tradition of Bordeaux Hermitagé, of which she has made one barrel every year since 2006. (The magnum of 2007 Duo that she served for Peter Gago, some of his Penfolds colleagues, and a few fortunate wine writers at a lunch at Vineum—Jaboulet’s wine bar in Tain l’Hermitage—in February, shortly before the launch of the 2021 Grange La Chapelle in Paris, was beautifully balanced and elegant, with a fresh and flourishing finish; an experimental wine, perhaps, but a very successful one.)

Grange La Chapelle: “A blend waiting to happen”

While the whole idea of Grange La Chapelle may seem very radical in some ways, however, in other ways, as Gago was excited to explain, it seems “fated,” even “natural,” “truly a blend waiting to happen.” How so? With evangelistic fervor, Gago recounts several prophetic signs of the new wine’s birth: a major Hermitage La Chapelle and Grange tasting organized by the Institute of Masters of Wine many years ago; more recently, in 1987, a Hermitage Luncheon at Rakel Restaurant in New York (with a young Thomas Keller as the chef), co-hosted by Gerard Jaboulet, who poured the 1978 Hermitage La Chapelle, and Max Schubert, who served the 1971 Grange (which he singled out as being his ideal vintage; see Huon Hook, WFW 8, pp.50–51); and even a bestselling book by Michel Dovaz, Fine Wines: Best Vintages Since 1900
(Assouline, 2009), where 1961 is represented by Hermitage La Chapelle, and 1962, by Grange. And Grange was, of course, labeled as nothing other than “Grange Hermitage” from the 1950s all the way through to 1989 (Bin 95 Grange tout court from 1990).

Gago was always convinced that the best Penfolds parent wine would be Grange—partly because of all the above associations, and partly because committing the most famous Penfolds wine would be the clearest, if also the riskiest, statement of complete conviction—even if Penfolds RWT Bin 798 might have seemed a contender, since it is matured, like Hermitage La Chapelle, in French rather than American oak. Nevertheless, he wanted to convince the Penfolds team, as well as the Frey team, by staging a tasting of blends using other Penfolds wines. And if he was convinced before the tasting that Grange would be best, he was still more so afterward—as they all were. As he says, “When things are real, all quickly becomes self-evident.”

Gago and Frey were equally sure that a 50/50 blend of the two wines would be best—symbolically, in terms of an equal partnership, but also in terms of taste—which also proved to be the case, and which will be the rule from now on. Because the inaugural 2021 vintage is no one-off—not a Penfolds Special Bin, which might be a one-off—but is the first in what is intended to be a long line of annual releases, “Mother Nature permitting.” The 2022 is already in bottle, and the 2023 blended in barrel.

Birth and early life of Grange La Chapelle

However “natural” the marriage, though, the wine’s actual birth inevitably required some intervention from the midwives, because the logistical and practical challenges were considerable. For a start, the two parents—one from the southern hemisphere, one from the northern—were on the scene some six months apart. And the birth needed to be in Australia, because legally it could not be in France. (The wine has on the back label, “Wine of France 50%. Wine of Australia 50%.”) 

Gago and Frey were both keen that the birth happen as soon as possible— but it would still need to be after the Hermitage La Chapelle had been through its malolactic. It was then air-freighted in barrel to Australia, to reduce the risks as far as possible, all the while being very carefully controlled and monitored for oxygen levels and temperature, with which Penfolds’ experience of other cross-continental blends proved beneficial.

After the blending, the new wine went back into oak; the time it will spend there will vary with the vintage, but Gago supposes it will normally be between six and nine months. Half of the blend went into American oak that had already been “seasoned” with other Penfolds wine that year, so not completely new, and the other half of the blend into French oak, 15% of which had been seasoned in the same way. The Grange had already been in 100% new American oak, and the La Chapelle in 15% new French oak, so Gago reckons that the overall proportion of new wood is around 70%.

There was then the crucial question of how long the new wine should spend in wood, Gago being convinced that “the bottling date is as important as the picking date.” He therefore sent samples back to the Frey team so that they could decide together. Once the date had been settled, the wine was not fined but went through what Gago calls a very light “sticks and stones” filtration, before being bottled under cork and spending more time in bottle prior to release. (This period may also vary, but Gago thinks it will normally be between 12 and 18 months.) 

A challenge of a different kind had been keeping the marriage and birth a carefully guarded secret over several years, throughout the very detailed and protracted discussions between the two companies, involving the marketing, PR, and sales teams, as well as all of the winemakers. A few wine writers were let in on the secret and had an opportunity to meet the new baby in London in October 2024, during tastings for the ninth edition of Penfolds’ The Rewards of Patience. The official presentation was at a very spectacular dinner at La Monnaie de Paris on February 9, 2025. After the embargo was finally lifted, one of the articles to break the news was written by WFW columnist Nick Ryan, senior wine writer for The Australian, where the story made the front page under the headline, “Like a Beatles–Stones album, this wine marriage is made in heaven.” (paywall)

Welcoming the wonder child

Both of the parent companies were always aware that not everybody would welcome the new baby into the world so warmly. Frey accepted before the launch that “we will attract some criticism—every good new idea is criticized by some people. But I’m not afraid of that. I would be far more worried if we didn’t attract any criticism, which would suggest that the idea isn’t as original, as unique, as we believe it is.”

And sure enough, some responded to the news by questioning the wine’s raison d’être (if not quite its right to exist). One UK wine writer (and doubtless others) asked on social media, “Why?” To which an obvious answer (and there are other much more positive ones) would be, “Why not?” After all, it’s not as if either parent wine will be diminished in anything other than quantity, unlike some new special cuvées, where an existing wine is compromised or sacrificed by having its heart and soul—be that derived from a particular lieu-dit or an old-vine parcel—removed. As with all blends—including Grange and Hermitage La Chapelle (the latter mainly now from lieux-dits Le Méal, Les Bessards, and Les Rocoules)—it may well be that the best perspective from which to view the new wine is not that of terroir, even though terroir operates on different levels, and nobody who has been on the great Hill of Hermitage will question the role of terroir there. 

There are, however, other equally valid perspectives, and Gago and Frey always had a very clear idea of what they were. The wine was always envisaged as a celebration of a grape variety and a style, rather than of a particular place or producer. As Gago puts it in the press release, “The blend’s raison d’être [is] one variety—reunited, reinterpreted, reassembled. Via one variety, this wine fuses two hemispheres and two winemaking cultures: France and South Australia, Syrah and Shiraz, La Chapelle and Grange.” Gago and Frey both felt that Cabernet Sauvignon has held the center-stage for rather too long and wanted to give Syrah/Shiraz a share of the limelight. (Grange normally has a little Cabernet, usually less than 8%.)

And of course they wanted to produce a great new wine with its own distinct identity. Inevitably, some of those fortunate enough to spend time with the new baby will not be able to resist the temptation to try to see which features come from which parent. At the launch dinner, one Australian wine writer admitted to being baffled, even frustrated, in her attempt to discern which qualities came from the Grange and which from the Hermitage La Chapelle; while some in the French press are quite sure that the Australian parent brings less to the marriage and its offspring than the French: muscle and richness, for which it gets in return the higher virtues of elegance, freshness, and finesse.

While Gago recognizes this temptation, he hopes that most of those who drink the wine will resist it—not least because he doubts it’s possible in taste terms. He would be the first to accept that the child has the DNA of both parents and that their personalities and qualities are vital. But he would also insist that they combine in complex ways to create a quite distinct individual. He points out that a parent with black hair and a parent with red hair may produce a blond child and that it is impossible to see the primary colors in all the others to which they give rise. He suspects that the tannins of the two parent wines combine to form quite different tannins; and the structure and texture of the new wine were the features that Frey singled out when I tasted it with the two of them in London. “There is a completely different texture and weight in the mouth,” she marveled. “I was afraid the wine might become hard, but in fact it has become very silky, in a quite distinct, even unique way.”

This is the alchemy, the astonishing transformation wrought in all successful blends, and a large part of their rationale. Even those blending components whose origins are much closer together—in the same single vineyard, like Jacques Devauges at Clos des Lambrays in Morey St-Denis, rather than multiple vineyards thousands of miles apart—testify to the blend being so much more than the sum of its parts. What we have in Grange La Chapelle is one plus one equaling one—but a different one. Or one plus one equaling three great wines. Even more than the distinct personality, it is the perfect harmony and sheer quality of the new wine that provide the best answer to the question “why?” 

Tasting

2021 Grange La Chapelle (14% ABV)

Tasted twice: in London on October 1, 2024, and
in Paris on February 9, 2025.

A deep purple-ruby to a thin, vibrant, crimson rim; opaque but not saturated, bright and shining. A captivating nose on both occasions, a fabulous aromatic weave; very elegant, fine, fresh, and focused, but effortless and floating, with graceful lift, the detail and intricacy already starting to show within the overall subtlety. Dark-fruited, with pure blackcurrant, blackberry, and mulberry, but neither raw nor roasted; beautifully integrated oak, barely perceptible as such, but perhaps contributing the light sandalwood and soft spice waft. With air, the spectrum widens, revealing more of the base notes, clean earth, licorice, even light resin (not eucalyptus), and more of the floral/mineral top notes (violets). Disarmingly silky entry, with exceptionally fine, chalk-dusty, gently supportive tannins; medium-bodied, perfectly paced, with a controlled energy and fluency. Almost racy; sleek, with great harmony, transparency, and vibrancy, remaining succulent throughout the elegant, persistent finish, which glides on and on. Although clearly very different, not only in terms of maturity, this was fully worthy of standing on the same table as the 1990 and 1978 La Chapelle, and the 1990 and 1971 Grange, which were also served at the launch dinner. 2030–50+. | 96–97

RRP of 75cl bottle is A$3,500 / €2,600; available in most key markets through appointed Penfolds agents or through grangexlachapelle.com 

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Gosset 21 Ans de Cave a Minima Extra Brut is the oldest and rarest wine in the house’s Compte d’Âge range so far. Neil Beckett reports.

Some age gracefully. Among them, happily, is Gosset Champagne, which applies equally to the maison—“the oldest wine house in Champagne” (1584)—its wines, and its maverick and spirited chef de cave Odilon de Varine, who combines to excellent effect creative curiosity, even impishness, and high seriousness. But with age may also come not only experience, expertise, and savoir-faire, but confidence, independence, and savoir-vivre—a readiness to be rid of the restrictions of convention and tradition; real rather than received wisdom.

It was in this free spirit—liberated and sustained by the Cointreau family, which has owned the house for the past three decades—that its distinguished, long-serving chef de cave Jean-Pierre Mareigner and his successor de Varine created and developed the Compte d’Âge series of exceptional Non-Vintage blends given extended maturation on their lees then disgorged and released after a specified minimum time in the cellar. The series is now well established, if teasingly and typically unpredictable in its evolution, following the inaugural 15 Ans de Cave a Minima (1998 base, 5,000 bottles, released in 2016, see WFW 52, p.69), the 12 Ans de Cave a Minima (2006 base, 12,000 bottles, released in 2020, see WFW 69, pp.58–59), and the 12 Ans de Cave a Minima Rosé (2006 base, 7,000 bottles, released in 2023, see WFW 81, p.68).

All of these (the 2015 now in even more exciting magnum format) are still drinking superbly, as was demonstrated by Thibaut Le Mailloux, Gosset’s marketing and communications director, and Richard Nunn, managing director of Gosset’s UK distributor Louis Latour Agencies, over a lunch in London this fall. But those wines were followed by the latest release in the series, which is the most special so far—the 21 Ans de Cave a Minima Extra Brut. The base vintage here is the 2000, with fruit sourced from across the region, including grands crus Ambonnay, Avize, Aÿ, Bouzy, Cramant, and Verzenay, as well as premiers crus Avenay-Val-d’Or, Chigny-les-Roses, Cuis, Trépail, Vertus, and Villers-Marmery. As for the other releases in the series, it saw no malolactic fermentation and no wood—among the guarantors of Gosset’s pure, racé, but richly vinous style—and the proportion of reserve wines is very low (only 4%) to keep the desired freshness. The reserve wines, likened by the house to “spices,” are stored not by village, grape variety, or vintage, but rather by style and the qualities they will add to final blend—a more artisanal, aesthetic palette for the art of assemblage of which de Varine and now his fellow cellar master Gabrielle Malagu are among the region’s most skillful and successful practitioners. Devotees of these exceptional, gastronomic wines should seek this out soon, because it is also extremely rare: only 1,200 precious bottles (RRP $440 / £285). 

Tasting

Pavyllon, London; September 24, 2024

Gosset 21 Ans de Cave a Minima Extra Brut
(57% Chardonnay, 43% Pinot Noir; cellared 2001; dosage 3g/l)

Welsh gold, a rich luster, with a slow but steady flow of fine bubbles, which may now fade gradually, the more fully to reveal the glory of the mature wine, which is always their primary role at Gosset. Aromatically, here on the immediately inviting, instantly winning nose there is the perfect balance and tension that Odilon de Varine always wants to strike—neither “oxidative” nor “reductive”; and as far as one can (or might want to) separate the seamlessly woven scented strands: quince, pristine white mushroom, and a gentle, rising smokiness. After a good half-hour in the glass, an even more intensely savory, yeasty intrigue, with a veal-stock meatiness and sweetness, but also exotic floral elegance and fragrant lift. Wondrous complexity and harmony on the mellow, multilayered, richly silky palate, but still with more than enough surface tension for there to be stimulating vibrancy, too, the sense of freshness heightened by the beautifully judged dosage, as well as by a gentle phenolic squeeze and subtle bitter twist on the fabulously persistent finish. A wine at which to marvel and to savor on its own or as a grand gastronomic partner. (It was brilliantly paired with roasted duck magret and marinated daikon radishes at our lunch.) | 97–98

Gosset 15 Ans de Cave a Minima Brut (magnum)(60% Chardonnay, 40% Pinot Noir;
cellared 1999; dosage 7g/l)

Still a miraculously pale, gleaming gold, with a super-fine mousse. Gloriously mature but still fresh and vigorous on the nose, which is much more iodé, marine, and mineral than the 21 Ans, with even more intense white and yellow fruit and only the first faint whiff of clean white mushroom. Great elegance, freshness, power, and roundness on the palate, but also a floating quality, which has less to do with any fleeting levity from the mousse than with the perfect harmony of the wine. The best bottles of this wine on release struck me as already having “perfect harmony yet seemingly endless vitality”—qualities that are even more evident eight years on from magnum, where the benefits of the larger format are clear. Sensational with our steamed Comté cheese soufflé and watercress coulis monté, with eel butter. | 95–96

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Neil Beckett welcomes the release of 2014 Bollinger La Côte aux Enfants and Vieilles Vignes Françaises.

Swapping children for the devil. Happily, this wasn’t a Champenois twist on the Faustian pact but rather the renaming of a very special Bollinger monopole vineyard in its grand cru home village of Aÿ, once known as La Côte aux Enfers (Hell’s Hill), due to the steepness of the slope, but more recently given the less diabolical name of La Côte aux Enfants, because children were thought to be the only ones who could easily scamper up it. (For more on the fascinating history of this vineyard, see Essi Avellan MW’s Review piece on the red Coteaux Champenois produced here since the 1834 vintage, shortly after Jacques Bollinger completed the purchase of all 50 parcels across the 4ha [10-acre] site; WFW 73, pp.88–90). 

Champagne will always be largely about the art of assemblage, but there are, wonderfully, some villages and single vineyards that deserve to stand alone, due to their distinctive and, even rarer, their sufficiently rounded personality. Complexity is as crucial a consideration as singularity. And as clear a case as any is La Côte aux Enfants. Because of its ability to produce exceptionally ripe Pinot Noir, its southern sector has long been the source of Bollinger’s still red wine (the Aÿ Rouge/Coteaux Champenois and now, after a slightly different vinification, the red wine used for Bollinger’s Vintage La Grande Année Rosé). But the ability of the cooler northwestern sector to produce a scintillating blanc de noirs Champagne, suggested by the house’s increasingly sophisticated understanding of the site, was thrillingly revealed by the inaugural 2012 vintage in 2022 (see Essi Avellan’s Preview in WFW 78, pp.62–63). Also two years ago, ill health forced the late Gilles Descôtes, Bollinger’s chef de cave since 2013, to retire, but he was succeeded by his close colleague Denis Bunner, who launched the 2013 Côte aux Enfants last year and the 2014 this. 

At a “Harvest Lunch” at Apricity in London on October 7, Bunner explained the challenges of the 2014 (and 2024) growing season, the cool, wet summer being especially tricky for houses that, like Bollinger, avoid herbicides. (It was the first house to be certified HVE in 2012 and VDC in 2014.) But hard work in the vines, better, milder conditions before the harvest, and, Bunner emphasized, the patience to wait a week longer than most others before picking (the Côte aux Enfants on September 16), resulted in a crop of concentrated, healthy ripe fruit, with high levels of acidity. (None was as high again until 2024.) He explained that as for the house’s existing blanc de noirs prestige cuvée, the iconic Vieilles Vignes Françaises—the 2014 vintage of which he was also launching—the “philosophy” for La Côte aux Enfants was to “push maturity to the limit,” the ripeness coming readily from the chalky, shallow, well-draining soils (only 1 inch [30mm] deep), as well as the steepness of the slope (20 degrees). 

Tasting

2014 Bollinger La Côte aux Enfants
(100% Pinot Noir; fermented in aged oak barrels; disgorged March 27, 2024; dosage 6g/l)

Still palest lemon gold, with a very fine, graceful, persistent mousse. A completely captivating, kaleidoscopic nose, which continued to reveal some new aromatic weave with every turn over a good hour in the glass: very concentrated and ripe, but also detailed and intricate, the fruit initially Golden Delicious apple, quince, greengage, and white peach, but all freshened, stiffened, and surrounded by a chalky, mineral, and marine-saline whiff; then rounded and softened by fresh-baked bread aromas, without being at all doughy or yeasty. Rooted by faint fennel and licorice; wafted by a light smokiness; and finally sweetened by delicate acacia honey and white mushroom. Beautifully balanced and refined, densely but finely spun, elegant and silky; gentle ginger spice; effortlessly expanding without any loss of precision or surface tension, sustained through the fabulous, spiraling finish, where the very subtle phenolic rub is more valedictory wave than bear hug. A very different, but fully worthy sibling to the VVF and, to me, as thrilling a “new” monoparcel blanc de noirs (to say the least) as any since Krug’s 1995 Clos d’Ambonnay. 3,000 bottles. | 97–98

2014 Bollinger Vieilles Vignes Françaises(100% Pinot Noir; fermented in aged oak barrels; disgorged February 15, 2024; dosage 4g/l)

Medium-deep gold, with a very fine, gentle mousse, a little less vigorous than the Côte aux Enfants. An ethereal but very restrained first nose, gradually releasing exotic floral notes (chamomile, mock orange), dried apricot and quince, and gentle honey, then fennel and licorice, an aromatic echo of this ancient, pre-phylloxera Pinot Noir on its own roots, and finally the faintest whiff of dried cèpes. A caressing, creamy, layered richness recalling the layering of the provignage vines in their two Aÿ clos, and a gorgeous, mellow, fruit sweetness, but perfectly balanced by ripe acidity and (very light) dosage (not at all perceptible per se), and with enough sheer concentration and surface tension to hold its perfect shape. Appetizingly dry, but not at all drying, on the endless, gently flourishing finish, without the need for any phenolic rub or twist. Effortlessly grand, magnificent, stately wine, but not at all ponderous; this golden coach has wheels, which will keep it rolling on and on... like the sublime, late-disgorged 1989 VVF that showed this cuvée’s extraordinary longevity. 1,865 bottles. | 96–98

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Alfred Gratien is rare in many ways and unique in one. Among all the hundreds of houses and thousands of growers in Champagne, it is among the few of the former that genuinely have the feel of the latter: a maison artisinale depuis 1864, as it aptly describes itself. A few others may also claim with legitimacy to embody “a living heritage” or “a living tradition” and to benefit from skills passed down “from generation to generation.” But at least one of the ways in which Alfred Gratien does so may have no equal: Ever since Gaston Jaeger was appointed to the role in 1905, the house has had only four chefs de caves, all from four consecutive generations of the same remarkable family, the succession passing from father to son. 

The current cellar master, Nicolas—affable, candid, and humble, but dedicated and passionate, deeply experienced and highly talented—started alongside his father Jean-Pierre at the age of 18 in 1990 and worked with him for 17 years before taking over on his retirement in 2007. 

The accumulation and transmission of decades of savoir-faire has been crucial, the house reasonably says, in three vital ways, into which it afforded insights over a two-day visit in June this year as part of its 160th anniversary celebrations.

The first is a detailed knowledge of the terroir and viticulture. The wines come 62% from grands and premiers cru, including Chardonnay from Avize, Chouilly, Cramant, Le Mesnil-sur-Oger, and Vertus, Pinot Noir from Bouzy and Ludes, and Meunier from Damery, Leuvrigny, and Reuil-sur-Marne. The house owns only 1.63ha (3.85 acres) of grand and premier cru vines in the Côte des Blancs but sources fruit from between 50 and 60 growers with whom it has close, long-term relationships, across some 50ha (124 acres), but all within a 25-mile (40km) radius. Nicolas is a grower himself, with family plots in Le Mesnil and Reuil—“I grew up among the vines”—which has given him a profound respect for good vignerons and viticulture. “Good wine is good grapes,” he asserts roundly. He has persuaded roughly half the growers with whom he works to let him decide harvest dates, and he is encouraging all of them toward more sustainable viticulture, paying a premium for grapes from those certified haute valeur environnementale, and even more for those certified viticulture durable en Champagne.

The second area where shared experience and expertise is crucial is the ancestral tradition of conducting all of the vinification in wood. Taking only the cuve, never the taille, Nicolas still ferments and matures all of the wines in 225-liter oak barriques (roughly 1,000 of them). For decades, these were only ever used barrels from La Chablisienne, but over the past two years, 10% have been new, from two coopers—Sylvain and Tonnellerie de Champagne—selected from three trialed. Even so, the average age is around 17 years. The fermentation has been more reliable over the past ten years, Nicolas says, since it was possible to control the ambient cellar temperature. (It is now down at 57–59°F [14–15°C].) The malolactic fermentation is always blocked with sulfites, and the acidity may be heightened slightly further, Nicolas suggests, from the sulfuric acid used to keep the barrels meticulously clean, even though they are of course rinsed thoroughly and also steam-cleaned shortly before the harvest. Every barrel is checked very carefully before being filled, and any with even the faintest whiff of mushroom are not used.

The wine spends a further six months in barrel on its lees, though bâtonnage is never practiced, because Nicolas does not need to add any richness and does not want to add any heaviness. Before it was possible to control the humidity (now up at 86%), as much as 100hl a year were lost to evaporation as the angels’ share. (These happy spirits are still commemorated on every barrel and also on the anniversary cuvées.) Adhering to wood is clearly very costly and very exacting—but for Nicolas, still well worth all of the painstaking work. It certainly isn’t “wood for wood’s sake,” as he says; it should never dominate and should only ever enhance—through greater complexity from the fermentation, greater roundness from the maturation, and heightened “emotion” in the wine. His belief in wood extends through to closures, all of the Vintage wines and the prestige cuvée Paradis being under cork rather than crown cap throughout the second fermentation and the very extended time they spend on lees.

On the shoulders of giants

The third area where Nicolas happily sits on the shoulders of ancestral giants—and therefore sees even further than they could—is the art of blending. (That is not to say they didn’t also produce superlative wines: Nicolas recalls a magical bottle of the 1955 shared with his father one Christmas Eve, and he very generously opened for us a magnificent bottle of the 1964, from my birth vintage—aging far more gracefully than I am and a moving testimony to the longevity and quality of the wines already being made more than half a century ago.) 

The hors classe Alfred Gratien Brut (50% Chardonnay, plus Pinot Noir and Meunier, even better from magnum, the current release being based on the 2019 vintage) always has a very high proportion (roughly 60%) of reserve wine, from a perpetual reserve started in 1990 and maintained through what Nicolas calls “regeneration” rather than “solera.” Each year, all of the NV blend is added as vin clair to the NV reserve, kept on its lees in temperature-controlled stainless-steel vats, before 70% is bottled and 30% carried forward. A brilliant innovation introduced by Nicolas in 2007 is the Paradis “solera,” which he supplements with each new vintage of this outstanding prestige cuvée, and for which he has two very important uses. One is as the liqueur d’expédition for the entire range, which takes 10–15% each year; and the other is for the two special cuvées so far bottled and released from it—the 565 (4,000 bottles) and 595 (300 magnums), the first “5” for the five Paradis vintages in the blend (2007–11), the “6” and “9” for the number of years spent sur lattes by the bottles and magnums respectively, and the second “5” for the five senses stimulated by the wines. All of the bottles have sold, but some of the magnums—along with the three Vintages in the late-disgorged Memory Collection (1997, 1998, 1999) the new anniversary cuvées, and the rest of the line—may still be bought directly from the charming boutique in Epernay, where a range of tastings and tours are offered year-round.

Nicolas’s achievements are all the more remarkable given the higher production Henkell has required (up from 100,000 bottles in 2000, to 300,000 today)—with no compromises in philosophy or quality. And as the marketing has risen from sotto voce to mezzo piano, he, his family, and the “Champagne wines” (as he calls them, for their gastronomic potential) are finally receiving the recognition they deserve. 

Tasting

Over lunch at Le Bristol, Paris; June 19, 2024 

Alfred Gratien 2008 160th Anniversary Limited Edition (bottle)
(56% Chardonnay, 23% Meunier, 21% Pinot Noir; disgorged May 14, 2024; dosage 8g/l)

Still a very pale gold, with a fine, gently persistent mousse. A captivating first nose: elegant, fine, fresh, focused, and intense, the light acacia, brioche, and savory umami notes the only (entirely positive) signs of its age and extended time on lees. With air, the aromas become more marine and mineral, enhanced finally by the faintest grace notes of champignons de Paris. Great core density and layered richness on the palate—a fine Montrachet texture—but it manages to circle the square and trip the light fantastic in that it’s also flowing, floating, graceful, and silken, with the excellent persistence and scintillation of the best of this powerful vintage.
A magnificent match for Brie layered with dried, diced apricots, figs, hazelnuts, and pistachios. Edition limited to 1,600 bottles. | 96

Alfred Gratien 2008 160th Anniversary Limited Edition (Jéroboam)
(56% Chardonnay, 23% Meunier, 21% Pinot Noir; disgorged May 17, 2024; dosage 8g/l)

Palest gold, even with a faint hint of lime green on the rim, and an exceptionally fine mousse. Even more filigreed finesse and freshness of scent than the bottle, with enchanting, fleeting hints of café au lait and fleurs blanches, including exotic gardenia, then sweet herbs, light meringue, patisserie, and an uplifting smoky waft. Less layered richness but even more aérien delicatesse and silken glide than the bottle—a fine Chevalier-Montrachet texture—the acidity even more perfectly integrated and wrapped, the lightest amertume noble even more perfectly pitched, adding a victory roll to the exhilarating, high-soaring finish. Already sublime and doubtless ever more so for another couple of decades at least. And for once, dessert, in the form of a lightly peach-scented vacherin, was a perfect partner. Edition limited to a symbolic 160 Jéroboams. | 98

Alfred Gratien 2008 Paradis Rosé
Limited Edition The Angels’ Share
(63% Chardonnay, 37% Pinot Noir; disgorged February 2024; dosage 8g/l))

An alluring, promising, pale copper-salmon rosé hue and a persistent, super-fine mousse. An enthralling, fresh fragrance, detailed, intricate, and precise, with petits fruits rouges (from the 12% of still red wine from Bouzy) and épices doux, blossoming with time in the glass to the finest, gentlest roseate scent. The core density is finely spun, at the heart of an exquisitely refined silken texture, with an appetizing light nip, but no rub, from the phenolics, which add another dimension and extend the fabulously flourishing finish. Well paired with suprême de volaille de Bresse rôti, bacon, spring onions, petits pois, and cinnamon-infused chicken jus. | 97

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It is hard to imagine a better two-day event on a particular wine region than Santorini’s Vedema. A collaboration between Katikies Hotels and Yiannis Karakasis MW, it evolved from Selene Vedema, established by restaurateur George Hatzigianakis several years ago. Based at one of Katikies five-star hotels—Katikies Garden, a beautifully converted former monastery in Fira, the largest town—it is masterminded by the charismatic and dynamic Athens-based Karakasis, who is doing as much as anybody to highlight the distinctive personality and sheer quality of the island’s wines—not only through this annual event but also through his magisterial book The Wines of Santorini (2021) and his 50 Great Greek Wines project, involving no fewer than seven of his fellow MWs. I was lucky enough to attend last year’s edition, running September 29–30, 2023.

A remarkable Santorini tour d’horizon

The amazing setting—luxury accommodation, privacy, tranquillity, and spectacular views out over Santorini’s famous caldera—is of course part of the appeal, as is the culinary excellence of the Selene restaurant under its Michelin-starred executive chef Ettore Botrini and the passion and professionalism of the genuinely warm and welcoming young staff. But what makes the event perhaps uniquely satisfying and stimulating is the combination of focus and range: The entire event takes place in the same charming, convenient, and intimate surroundings but includes almost all of the island’s 21 producers (there are as many as 1,000 growers, but that’s another part of the story); in 2022, there were 17 at the all-afternoon walk-around tasting on the second day, and in 2023, 19. (One resident sommelier said he thought it might have been the first time that so many of them had been in the same room together, professional rivalries running strong.) Most producers showed a range of styles, and yet it was possible to taste every wine if one wanted, making it comprehensive without being completely overwhelming, in a way that would be impossible at many larger events. This gives attendees, whether expert or neophyte (I was certainly the latter, on my first visit to the island) a remarkable tour d’horizon in terms of contemporary issues and the personality, quality, and variety of the wines.

Assyrtiko and white Burgundy

On the first afternoon of the 2023 event, there were two masterclasses, with a sensible interval between the two. At the first, Karakasis was joined by Mark Andrew MW—co-founder of Noble Rot magazine and three London restaurants with the same name, who wrote his MW dissertation on the wines of Santorini—for a blind comparative tasting of five Assyrtiko-based white wines and five white Burgundies. The previous year, the comparison had been with Riesling, when even Jancis Robinson MW admitted to finding it “next to impossible to be sure of the correct answer” when asked to identify which of the two varietal wines served blind was which. 

There were also remarkable similarities between the Assyrtikos and the Burgundies in taste terms—especially, for both Karakasis and Andrew, their marked acidity and their mineral drive, though they also agreed that the “minerality” was subtly different: more “chalky” for Burgundy, more “marine,” “salty,” or “smoky” for Santorini. The few differences they did identify made those all the more intriguing, Andrew suggesting that Chardonnay generally has a greater affinity with new oak than Assyrtiko, most of which now sees only stainless steel or older wood. (In his book, Karakasis says his preference is for no more than 20–30% new oak.) For me, another distinguishing feature was the still slightly higher alcohol levels of the Santorini wines—the rare combination of high alcohol and redeemingly high acidity being one of Assyrtiko’s most winning features—even with the greater heft of today’s climate-change-inflected white Burgundy.

As significant and striking as any of the other similarities, though, was that the Santorini wines were very much at the same very high level of quality. Karakasis had certainly chosen top cuvées from top producers (including Estate Argyros Cuvée Monsigniori, Gaia Wild Ferment Assyrtiko, and Artemis Karamelegos Nykteri), but Andrew had not pulled any punches either, offering a range of respected wines from Chablis, via the Côte de Beaune, to the Mâconnais (including Bessin-Tremblay Chablis Grand Cru Valmur, Domaine Paul Pillot Chassagne-Montrachet Premier Cru Les Mazures, and Domaine Chavy-Chouet Puligny-Montrachet Les Enseignères). And despite concern over the rising price of top Assyrtiko from Santorini (fueled by consumer demand, as well as by grape prices as high as €5/kg), its wines may well have had the edge in terms of value. (See also WFW 82, pp.120–27.) 

Nykteri: whence and whither

The second, equally fascinating and insightful masterclass, also presented by Karakasis and Andrew but this time with two guest producers—the highly influential, pioneering Paris Sigalas (now at Oeno P, having sold his share in his eponymous winery) and Petros Vamvakousis (Venetsanos)—was titled Santorini Nykteri: Past, Present, and Future. This historic wine style takes its name from the Greek word for “night” (nykta), which, traditionally, was when very ripe grapes, picked the same day, late in the season (September), were pressed, and the free-run juice was fermented and matured in large, old oak vats, which were only partly filled, sealed, and not topped up, resulting in a deliberately oxidative style. Some of the wines developed flor, some had residual sugar of 6–8g/liter, and alcohol levels could be as high as 16%. But they were normally more “aristocratic, elegant, and refined,” explained Karakasis, than Brousko wines, for which the grapes might not be pressed and fermented until a few days after they were picked, spending longer on their skins and taking on more tannins. Some compare traditional Nykteri to Sherry, though Andrew dismissed this as something of a “red herring,” proposing that Jura wines were closer to the mark (and recommending poulet au vin jaune, as well as pork dishes and a wide range of cheeses as suitable food matches).

Karakasis explained that while Nykteri has a distinguished “past,” it has a confused and confusing “present,” as a result of the very loose and rather meaningless legal definition now in force, which requires only that the alcohol level is at least 13.5% and that the wine spends at least three months in oak. But when Assyrtiko is naturally high in alcohol and the average, even for earlier harvested wines, is 13.5%, too many wines qualify; some producers use the term simply for their top wine, while others who could use the term eschew it as either irrelevant or too vague. Andrew described the style as being stuck in “no man’s land,” with little or no consumer recognition or understanding of the term; and the 16 wines offered for tasting—some described as Oak Fermented, Reserve, or Grande Reserve rather than Nykteri, Nikteri, or Nychteri—were certainly very different in taste terms, even if most were very impressive in their own way. At least one, Oeno P’s Akulumbo 2021—very elegant, refined, and subtle, as well as concentrated, layered, and silky, with only very gentle valedictory grip—did not see any oak at all, being aged, like all the wines Sigalas now makes there, in  “amphorae.” 

As for the “future,” Andrew sketched out two possible ways forward. The first would be to require all oak-aged Assyrtiko to be PDO Nykteri (there is currently only one PDO, Santorini, for both dry and sweet wines);  while the second would be to clarify a definition of traditional Nykteri then draft modern, much stricter rules to secure that style. He accepted that the second option would result in a more niche category but also admitted to finding it the “more exciting” possibility, and welcomed the freedom producers of oak-aged wines would have not to use the term if they didn’t want to. Sigalas expressed the hope that like-minded producers might be able to form an association that would adopt such stricter rules, but that they should include the possibility of some residual sugar, depending on the vintage. His gloriously intense, pure, saline, and sumptuous Sigalas Nychteri 2020 has 6–8g/l residual sugar, he revealed. Andrew pointed out that sweetness levels that varied each year might require more explanation and more hand-selling—like some Alsace or Loire wines—but he clearly felt this would be part and parcel of being more niche and more “natural” (as in more respectful of the season) and suggested that, as for those French regions, an indication of sweetness on the label would help. Vamvakousis stressed that any new, stricter rules should include viticulture, as well as winemaking.

Celebrating and preserving tradition on Santorini

Away from the more formal masterclasses, discussions with Karakasis about the future of Santorini ranged far and wide, and he did not in the least disguise the many challenging issues. While being evangelical in his zeal for the island and its wines, he emphasized the fragility, as well as the unique strengths, of the current situation: the awkward balance of power between the 750–1,000 small grape growers (most owning less than 0.5ha or so) and the 21 producers, with the concomitant difficulty of moving toward better, more organic and sustainable viticulture, and the temptation to sell land at a large profit to developers keen to cater to the ever-growing number of Santorini’s tourists; climate change, ever-older vines, ever-lower yields (as meager as 5hl/ha in difficult years like 2023), and possible partial remedies, including irrigation and the replacement of the traditional kouloura-trained vines (the roots often 100–200 years old) with more productive kladeftico-trained vines; and the need to be more measured and precise with sulfur-dioxide additions in the winery, which should be neither too low (risking oxidation or other problems) nor too high (robbing the wine of expression and trapping it in a “golden cage”). While embracing the need for innovation and improvement, especially in viticulture, Karakasis clearly identifies as paramount the meaningful preservation and protection of the island’s precious and unique traditions in the face of the many threats.

The overall atmosphere at the festival, however, was celebratory, and never more so than at the very ambitious and accomplished dinners each evening in the Selene restaurant, set in the charming courtyard. Here the atmosphere was animated and expectant, with a gentle hum of conversation, but also very relaxed, with suitably restrained live music.

On the first evening, the degustation dinner, Gastronomic Journey, was prepared by chefs from all of the Katikies restaurants. The 12 courses—all beautiful, all delicious, many superlative by any  standard—ranged from the likes of “Landscapes of Pumice” (smoked eel, crunchy waffle, fava, capers, pollen), through “Matrix” (crayfish, white chocolate, ginger, lime, green-apple gel, caviar), to “Lamb” (milk-fed lamb, Tinos artichokes, chickpeas, sage). After an appetizing glass of Santo’s traditional-method sparkling Assyrtiko, all of the dinner wines—carefully selected by Karakasis, the Katikies wine consultant—were also, very properly, from Santorini. But only two were Assyrtiko (the second being the spellbinding Oeno P Tria Ampelia Pithari 6 2021, where the exhilarating purity and transparency showed how vividly amphorae can translate this special volcanic terroir, without any extraneous aromas, flavors, or texture from wood). Karakasis clearly wanted to emphasize the point, already made at the walk-around tasting, that while Assyrtiko may be the superstar grape variety, there are others—33, in all, though this is dramatically down on the grand total of 66 in former times. The first white wine was Argyros Athiri 2022, from a variety that is not normally offered as a varietal  wine—enigmatic, lightly herbal, subtle; while the second wine was an intriguing pale rosé, the Gavalas Voudomato 2022—finely fruity (pomegranate), floral, pure, savory, seductively supple. The red wine was the Venetsanos Mandilaria 2019—darkly hued, enticingly fragrant, floral (roseate), herbal, elegantly silky, fine-grained, and gently supportive (rather than with the normally robust tannins of the variety), a distinctive and engaging personality but very classically proportioned.

The second evening, there was a “four-hands dinner” dubbed Selene Welcomes Etrusco, featuring chefs Ettore Botrini and Nikos Billis. Among the imaginatively named, impeccably presented dishes were “God Loves Caviar” (caviar, cauliflower, beurre noisette), “Reference to Caravaggio” (red prawns, tomatoes from last summer, wild celery, strawberry), and “Columbina before the Wedding Night” (squab, peach, herbs). It’s always a sign of confidence, as well as a genuine passion for wine, when a producer or sommelier serves wines from another region, as Karakasis did here, including Krug Grande Cuvée (170th edition), Henri Bourgeois Jadis Sancerre 2018, Nervi Conterno Il Rosato 2021, and Marquis d’Angerville Volnay Premier Cru Fremiet 2017. But it was powerful testimony that the only two wines from Santorini were as exciting as any: the Artemis Karamolegos Ftelos Assyrtiko 2020—grand in scale but subtle and gently scintillating (a magnificent match with the “Royale à la Grecque” [lobster broth, shellfish, Greek coffee, curry]); and the Venetsanos Vinsanto 12 Years Old—fresh and herbal, as well as raisined, finely focused, finishing almost dry, with light bitterness and a phenolic nip (perfect with the “Bitter Chocolate Tart” [carob, sweet eggplant, “diktamo” ice cream]).

The 2024 edition of Vedema, September 20–21, will be different in detail but similar in structure, again with two masterclasses—Volcanic Wines: The Power of Terroir, and Divine Drops: Vinsanto, Vin Santo & Tokaji, both presented by Yiannis Karakasis & Wojciech Bonkowski MW—as well as the walk-around tasting and two equally promising dinners, one devoted to Gaja wines in the presence of Angelo Gaja’s son Giovanni. Any wine lover who can go, should. 

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An awe-inspiring, century-spanning tasting at the domaine made a compelling case for Clos des Lambrays as one of the five top grands crus of the Côte d’Or. Neil Beckett reports.

Burgundy is history. No French wine region is more steeped in it. But even there—in the dukedom that, for much of the later Middle Ages, was well in advance of the kingdom of France, as the land of Bernard of Clairvaux and Cîteaux, of Philip the Bold and Philip the Good, Claus Sluter and Rogier van der Weyden, the Hospices de Beaune and de Nuits—perhaps no domaine, no vineyard has a longer and stronger historical thread running through it, for more than seven and a half centuries, than Clos des Lambrays. The thread may occasionally have worn thin, and for long periods disappeared entirely into the fading Burgundian tapestry, which has itself changed, often dramatically, over that time. But all those changes merely serve to highlight the constancy of the essential features of this very special climat as expressed through its wines: its clear identity, its complete integrity, its extraordinary longevity, and its exhilarating quality.

At a Century of Clos des Lambrays dinner held on November 16, 2023, at the domaine, its current custodian and translator, régisseur Jacques Devauges, expressed, with characteristic humility and sincerity, his conviction that Clos des Lambrays is one of the five or six most outstanding grands crus in the Côte d’Or. (The others, north to south, are Chambertin-Clos de Bèze, Musigny, La Romanée, Romanée-Conti, and La Tâche.) The wines he shared (13, including a barrel sample of the 2023), from five decades within a 100-year span, from 1923 to 2022/23, made his claim completely convincing to me and, I imagine, to many or most of the other ten guests (one private collector, as well as members of the press and trade, including representatives of US and UK agents Vineyard Brands and Flint Wines).

Fragmentation and resurrection 

In a 2012 WFW article reviewing the 1999–2009 Clos des Lambrays, the late Clive Coates MW, who must have tasted as much great Burgundy as anybody, praised the 1945, 1947, 1948, and 1949 vintages he had shared with Alexis Lichine in the late 1970s and early 1980s as “some of the finest Burgundies I have ever drunk” (see WFW 36, pp.60–63). With his customary detail in historical matters, Clive relates there the long and fascinating story of the vineyard, which he traces back to 1258, when a document in the archives at Cîteaux (which had been given the seigneurie of the village of Morey in 1120) mentions the Frères Lambrays and their wines. I encourage readers to refer back to Clive’s account, especially since limitations of space will restrict me here to a summary of the key periods and personalities, especially those highlighted by Jacques himself during our dinner.

During the French Revolution, Clos des Lambrays, along with all other ecclesiastical property, was sequestered by the state and sold off piecemeal in 1791. Nuits-St-Georges merchant Louis Joly began acquiring parcels of the vineyard in the early 1830s; by 1855 he owned 7ha (17 acres), which seems to have been the full extent of the vineyard then. In 1865, he sold it to Albert Sébastien Rodier, director of another Nuits-St-Georges négociant, Maison Henri de Bahèzre, who expanded it to its current size of 8.7ha (21.5 acres). After World War I, the business struggled under Rodier’s two grandsons, another Albert and Camille, who sold it to the Cosson family. Monsieur Cosson was a wealthy Parisian banker, but his wife, Renée, was a famous sculptress and rich in her own right. She was also Albert Rodier’s mistress, and she bought out the rest of the Cosson family, taking over as owner of Clos des Lambrays in 1938 and often residing in its château.

Already on the scene for 50 years was the unsung hero of these difficult decades, not mentioned in Clive’s account but given proper recognition by Jacques at our dinner—régisseur Etienne Amiot, who made all of the older wines we tasted then. His first harvest was in 1888, when he started as a porter in the vineyard at the age of 13. He missed a few vintages due to national service and World War I, but he saw in as many as 51 harvests, his last in 1947.

Amiot had challenges aplenty. According to Clive, “Mme Cosson was as obdurate as she was passionate about her vineyard, and as the old pre-phylloxera vines died, she refused to replace them. She also failed to compost the vineyard. Yields fell to 10hl/ha.” She also refused to allow chaptalization and insisted on long cuvaisons and on keeping the wine in cask until it was sold; it seems that some of the 1973 vintage was still unbottled in 1979. (Jacques says that at least some of the wine was bottled at the domaine as early as 1907, and possibly before then.)

None of Renée Cosson’s children wanted to assume responsibility for the property, which she tried to sell unsuccessfully in the 1970s. She died in 1977, and in 1979 her heirs finally sold the château and the vineyard, for a price rumored to be as low as FF10 million, to a consortium headed by Fabien Saier and his son Louis, owners of another Burgundy domaine. In 1980, they appointed as régisseur Thierry Brouin, a skillful winemaker who was in the role for 38 vintages. (See Jon Wyand’s portrait of Thierry Brouin, WFW 58, pp.118–19.) They also applied for promotion to grand cru—a status that the Rodiers and Cossons had not sought when the classification was being established in the 1930s. Asking why not, Clive speculated: “No one is quite sure. As with La Grande Rue, the answer seems to be sheer inertia, together with a worry that they would pay more tax.” As he reasoned, there was always a strong prima facie case for grand cru status. A proper clos, surrounded by walls, on the north side of grand cru Clos de Tart but extending higher up the slope, it sits near grands crus Clos St-Denis and Clos de la Roche: “All are at the same level of altitude, have the same sort of protection from the prevailing westerly wind, share the same aspect to the east, and are comprised of more or less the same soil structure: a limestone marl.” Promotion of Clos des Lambrays was duly secured on April 27, 1981 (that of La Grande Rue in Vosne-Romanée in 1990). This might be the place to note that although it is often regarded as a monopole grand cru, it is not quite that, strictly speaking. A small parcel, just under one ouvrée (4.28 ares [0.1 acre]) in size, at the bottom, belongs to Jean Taupenot-Merme and his wife, who live below; they used it as a vegetable garden until 1974, when they planted vines there, but they blend the fruit into one of their Morey-St-Denis premiers crus, as it produces no more than one barrel of wine. Jacques admits that it would certainly be nice to own the entirety of the vineyard, and he jokes that if ever the Taupenot-Mermes wanted to sell their parcel, they would know where to come knocking. But he adds that when Domaine des Lambrays already owns 99.6% of the vineyard, the remaining 0.4% would not make any appreciable difference to the final wine.

The Saier consortium made it possible for Brouin to replant some 2.44ha (6 acres) in the northern part of the vineyard, and to fill in the gaps elsewhere. The fruit from the young vines went into a new second wine, a Morey-St-Denis premier cru called Les Loups (the name for residents of the village). The château and park were restored, and the cellars refurbished. But having bought out their two partners and become the sole owners by 1988, the Saiers found their investments difficult to recoup, and they put the domaine up for sale—“ironically,” as Clive wryly remarked, “just when the wine was starting to reveal its potential once more.”

It was bought in 1996 by German advertising mogul Günter Freund and his son Hans-Joachim, who purchased the largest grand cru parcel under single ownership for a sum amounting to $9 million. They modernized the living quarters and spent time there as a family. And the quality of the wines continued to improve: “Vintages since 1996, and increasingly since 2000,” Clive concluded, “have certainly been equal to the very best that the top vineyards of Morey-St-Denis can offer.” 

Conversion and revelation

Bernard Arnault, founder, chairman, and president of LVMH, acquired Clos des Lambrays from the Freund family in 2014. The domaine was briefly under the management of Boris Champy (who now has his own domaine in Nantoux, on the Hautes-Côtes de Beaune), before Jacques Devauges was invited to move from neighboring Clos de Tart to take over as régisseur in March 2019.

Over the next three years, the domaine was converted to organic farming (2019), then biodynamic (2020); 2022 was the first vintage to be certified organic. A new winery was built—airy and light, of an almost Cistercian simplicity, inspired by the estate’s monastic origins—the magnificent cedar planted in 1637 visible through the arched window overlooking the park. If the aesthetic is old, the equipment is cutting-edge, including temperature-controlled, completely sealable wooden fermentation vats, designed by Jacques himself and made by François Frères, as well as a glass lift that allows everything to be moved by gravity without any need for pumping. The barrel cellar has been expanded and refurbished, and a massive slab of entrochal limestone discovered during the excavations made into a magnificent tasting table at Jacques’s suggestion.

While Jacques attributes roughly 20% of the final quality of the wine to its treatment in the winery, 80% of the quality, and 100% of the potential, still comes from the vineyard. During his first three years, he deepened his knowledge of the different plots within the clos, identifying and separately vinifying 11 plots rather than eight, as previously. Although the bedrock varies across the vineyard, the soil is generally a deep, red-brown marl, rich in iron, with more clay lower down the slope, where the plots contribute power and structure, while the higher plots, where there is even some sand, lend elegance, finesse, and fragrance.

Some 70% of the vines were planted between 1935 and 1998, and from the first post-phylloxera plantings onward, they have been high-quality Pinot Fin. The rows were oriented north–south rather than east–west, running across rather than up and down the slope, as is more usual. Initially, this was to reduce the risk of erosion. But an additional benefit in our climate-change era (and one for which Jacques is ever more grateful) is that in hot, dry vintages, the fruit is more protected from the strong midday sun, while in cooler, later years (like 2008, 2013, or 2021), it gets the sun twice a day, early and late, which helps it ripen.

Jacques believes that the biodynamic practices are already resulting in greater energy, purity, and precision in the wines. And he thinks that when two of his three defining qualities of Clos des Lambrays wines—a caressing delicacy and grace—are almost equally evident in back-to-back vintages as different as 2020 and 2021, this is striking proof of the expressive power of its special terroir.

Timeless terroir wonders

Equally convincing and moving testimony was provided by all eight of our older wines, which were also produced in very different vintages, and in circumstances dramatically less propitious than those pertaining today. They also reveal in the most thrilling way the third of Jacques’s defining qualities—the ability to age spectacularly well.

Jacques is convinced that the 100% whole-bunch fermentation for all the older wines will have helped to extend the longevity naturally bestowed by the vineyard. (By contrast, he has found that some completely destemmed, fully mature wines made in the 1970s, ’80s, and ’90s—even those from very famous and recherché producers—have aged less well.) Above all, however, Jacques believes that the extraordinary longevity of Clos des Lambrays wines is due not merely to acidity or tannins, or even to perfect balance, but primarily to the inscrutable but nevertheless tangible effects of the totality of the terroir.

All of the older wines we tasted were so much more than curiosities, though they were certainly rarities; and so much more than remarkable survivors, though they were certainly that, too, not least for having been hidden in the cellars at the domaine during World War II, behind false walls blackened with charcoal to make them look as old as the rest. Nobody at the dinner needed to make any allowances, any concessions, any excuses for the wines’ venerable age; their harmony, integrity, and personality were more or less perfectly preserved; refined through “lengths and breadths of time,” without any of the ambiguity or blurring of form or meaning suffered by the earl and countess in Philip Larkin’s poem “An Arundel Tomb.” Instead, everybody marveled at how such glorious wines could be produced in such difficult circumstances, so different from those today, and reveled in “their final blazon.” “Incredible” is a much overused word, but it was often on our lips that evening, and it is equally hard now to find a more apt word to describe the sense of awe left by any one of these wonderful wines.

All of the older wines apart from the 1938 were reconditioned in 2018, without any exposure to oxygen, in a special machine made and operated by Michael Paetzold. The bottles were all brought up from the cellar and stood up for seven days before the tasting, opened four hours before the dinner, and poured straight into guests’ glasses.

With a confident disregard for any legal niceties, Renée Cosson dignified her wines with the identity of “Grand Cru Classé.” Jacques did not honor that tradition, but he did still exercise a little avant la lettre poetic license in referring to all of the older wines in the dinner program as “Grand Cru.” The deeper reality behind that was also captured by Camille Rodier’s classification as Tête de Cuvée, which Jasper Morris MW was willing to endorse in Inside Burgundy after a 20-vintage vertical back to 1918: “Clos des Lambrays really can stand up with the grandest of grands crus.”

Jacques’s comments on each wine in the dinner program are reproduced almost verbatim at the beginning of each of the tasting notes below, together with any other information shared by him round the table. The dinner dishes, brilliantly conceived and executed by chef Maxime Besson, and the pairings, were as follows: blue lobster, Jerusalem artichoke, Petrossian Fleur de Caviar (2021, 2020); farm chicken terrine, blackcurrant mustard, Burgundy truffle (1947, 1946, 1942); veal fillet, parsnip, white truffle (1938, 1937, 1934); cheese (1926, 1923). 

Tasting

November 16, 2023

2022 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Fourth vintage of organic viticulture (ECOCERT certified). Made in the new winery: in wooden tanks, 100% gravity, and with a parcellaire approach. Yields: 30hl/ha. Harvest: September 1–6. 13.7% ABV.

This was a proportionate réunion of all the parcels, as Jacques did not expect to bottle the final wine until mid-April 2024, after 19 months in barrel, 20% new. Medium-deep ruby, good intensity and luminosity. A beguiling first nose: balance, poise, gentle intensity, and exhilarating fruit purity, with black raspberry, light licorice, and the first hints of floral, sweet herbal, and spice notes. Very gentle, graceful, silken entry—what Jacques aptly describes as a “caress”—with great layered density as it gradually expands in the mouth but also superb refinement of very fine-grain tannin, a gentle squeeze, finely supportive, succulent throughout, with a fruit ripeness that comes across almost as a sucrosity on the mid-palate, and a gentle glowing warmth on the finish. This was already purring with promise. Retasted at Jacques’s official launch of the wine at Claridge’s Hotel in London on March 12, 2024, this was still beautifully transparent but even more expressive and vivid, with more of the aromatic nuances starting to show, which revealed more clearly how harmoniously and seamlessly they weave together. There are no negative telltale signs of the 80% whole-bunch fermentation, the stems as invisible per se as Jacques always hoped. The depth of the layering and the grandeur of the scale were also clearer four months on, leaving no doubt that it has the structure to age for decades, but as the tannins gradually melt and soften rather than tighten and the final impression is of great fragrant persistence, there is equally no doubt that the aging will be graceful and all the defining characteristics crystal-clear at full maturity. | 98–99

2021 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Frost on April 6–8. Cool and wet summer. Sunny September. Yields: 15hl/ha. 13.6% ABV (chaptalized up from 13.1/13.2%).

A slightly lighter hue than the 2022 or the 2019, but still a good, clear mid-ruby. A little more aromatic reserve than the 2022, with alluring dark-fruit scents, more cherry than raspberry, but with the same perfect poise. (Jacques described it as shy and tight but explained that it had shown good perfume and sweetness during élevage.) A cashmere softness as it reaches the palate, which is ample and supple, with perfect ripeness despite the challenges of the growing season, but also a harmoniously integrated acidity to ensure freshness and a core of very precise fruit. | 96–97

2020 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Historically hot and dry year (+20% sunshine and -35% rainfall). First vintage of biodynamic viticulture. Yields: 15hl/ha. Harvest: August 20–26 (previous earliest record: August 23–September 2, 2003). 13.7% ABV.

Deepest ruby, almost opaque, only the faintest glimmer. Very dark-fruited and intense on the nose, back to black raspberry rather than cherry, with an earthy licorice note, but this is still a very composed and elegant scent, with no disconcerting, distorting warmth. (Jacques was very pleased and relieved that the alcohol level was below 14%, which was rare among top grands and premiers crus in this hot vintage.) Dense, rich, and multilayered on the palate, with plenty of supportive structure—this is the most abundantly tannic of the four younger vintages—but the quality of those tannins (a word that wrongs them) is superlative: highly refined and supremely silky, with spectacular, lingering length. As monumental and as smooth as the most polished marble statue (much more Venus than Mars). | 97–98

2019 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

First vintage of organic viticulture and the first vintage with a parcellaire approach. Yields: 15hl/ha (a combination of the vintage effect and the conversion to organic viticulture). Harvest: September 13–17. 80% whole-bunch. 13.7% ABV.

Although this vintage appears here in chronological order, Jacques chose to show this wine first—and with good reason. It is clearly a historic vintage and a brilliant debut in terms of the new approach and the new winemaker, but the extremely low yields from the first organic vintage may be almost endearingly evident by comparison with the three subsequent vintages, which fully support Jacques’s belief that the benefits of the biodynamic approach are already becoming clearer and clearer. Medium-deep ruby. Aromatically, this is little more obviously “polished” than later vintages, a little drier and spicier in its 80% whole-bunch and oak influence. A lovely brightness to the acidity, in a vintage that can seem rather simply “sweet,” beautifully integrated and wrapped and not at all shrill, with a black raspberry and bramble character to the fruit. A slightly less fine grain to the tannin, and a shade drier and warmer on the finish, showing the wood a little more—but only relatively speaking. | 95–96

1947 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Cosson era (with the help of Albert Rodier, the last vintage of régisseur Etienne Amiot). Considered a good vintage. One of the hottest vintages of the 20th century (with 1976 and 2003): 104˚F (40˚C) between July 20 and August 5. Harvest: September 15. Average yields.

A great leap back in time to a completely different era, starting with a vintage more than 70 years older than any of the younger wines. Still a beautiful, clear, mid-ruby. Arrestingly—almost brutally—intense on the nose, but not at all coarse and remarkably pure, with dried morel and smoky-bacon notes, not nearly as tertiary as that might sound, the mushroomy notes fading rather than strengthening with more time in the glass, seeming to get fresher and fresher rather than tiring. Dense, elegant, and silken on the palate, with extraordinary freshness for its age and vintage, and fabulous persistence. One would never imagine that this wine was more than 75 years old, and I would have been decades out if served the wine blind and asked to hazard a guess at its vintage. After a couple of hours in the glass, this was still going strong and holding up even better than the other two wines from the ’40s. | 98

1946 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Cosson era (with the help of Albert Rodier and régisseur Etienne Amiot). Considered a poor vintage. Cold and rainy weather from August 5 to the end of September. Harvest: September 28. Small crop.

A deep ruby hue. Another quite superb scent, with gentle balsamic and black-olive notes, but still so fresh, so focused. Good layered density on the palate, with excellent, well-integrated freshness and fine-grain tannins making for a supportive structure. Great, lingering freshness and sweetness on the finish, betraying no hint of any of the difficulties of the growing season, and which Jacques also found “very seductive.” An against-all-odds beauty. | 97

1942 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Cosson era (with the help of Albert Rodier and régisseur Etienne Amiot). Considered an acceptable vintage. Generally dry season, but not hot. Very serious supply problems (vineyard products, SO2, bottles…), and the wine was probably bottled quite some time after the end of World War II in 1945. Harvest: September 25. Average yields.

A less deep ruby than the two previous wines, but still in good heart for its age, with a little more evident sediment. An exquisite bouquet, well captured by Jacques as “végétal noble, dried herbs and tobacco, and old tea roses,” with, for me, a very fine, mint-toffee note (reminiscent of a 1917 Niepoort white Port generously shared by Dirk Niepoort several years ago). Again, far from fading over time, the fragrance actually seemed to freshen and improve. Lighter on the palate than the previous two wines, but completely captivating and enchanting in its delicacy and grace, with a beautifully fresh, gently cleansing finish. Jacques admitted that, if forced to choose among the three wines from the ’40s, this might be his favorite—a preference shared by several other tasters. | 98

1938 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Cosson's first vintage (with the help of Albert Rodier and régisseur Etienne Amiot). Considered a poor vintage. Cool and cloudy summer. Small crop, delay in wine sales due to World War II. Harvest: October 8.

While the other two vintages from the ’30s—the 1937 and 1934—have always been recognized as good or even great vintages, the 1938 has largely been “forgotten,” as Jacques put it. But for him it holds “a lot of emotion”—not only because it was the first of the Cosson era, but also because it is still such a delicious wine to drink, despite coming from such a tricky vintage. While it is clearly a fully mature wine, there is no decay, and when Jacques served it blind at a paulée-style event in London a few years ago, the closest guess as to its age was that it was 30 years old—when it was more than 50 years older than that. A pale to mid-ruby, with an even gradation toward the rim and a little sediment. Very savory and umami in scent, with more of the morel mushroom and lightly smoky bacon, but still very intense, still with a core and surrounding detail, nothing remotely fading or wispy. Equally remarkable depth on the palate, which was deeper and richer than either of the vintages from the ’20s, still layered and silken, with a reprise of the savory notes on the nose and slightly dry, cleansing tannins, but without any astringency. There is an autumnal feel to this, but the leaves are bright, dry, and intact, not at all damp, dank, or rotting; the blaze-of-glory splendor of a New England fall, as perfectly preserved as between the pages of a family bible. While the conditions in which this bottle was enjoyed could hardly have been more favorable, it was encouraging and exciting to see that another bottle (certainly of equally impeccable provenance and storage) that Jacques showed at a dinner at Hélène Darroze in The Connaught Hotel after the London launch of the 2022 on March 12, 2024, had traveled very well. Again alongside the 1937 on that occasion, too, it was the more expressive of the two initially, additional descriptors including quince and tea (from Jacques), cardamom and Moroccan leather (from me), and two very experienced and expert Burgundy buyers around the table preferred it to the ’37. | 97

1937 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Rodier era (régisseur Etienne Amiot). Considered a good vintage. Bright, dry, and hot summer, into September, with well-timed rain on September 9. Harvest: September 23. Low to medium yield.

Clear, mid-ruby, still with a dullish luster. An amazing bouquet (all tasters agree): much fresher, more focused, more vital than the 1938; ethereal levity without any fuzzy volatility, complex but so perfectly seamless that it is difficult, and maybe even disrespectful or trivializing, to try to separate out any of the many threads in the fragrant tapestry. A spring-like, pea-shoot freshness and floral allure (not roseate; maybe more sweet pea?), with the faintest balsamic top notes the only hint as to its actual age. A correspondingly magnificent palate, a crimson silk mille-feuille, the harmony to match the intensity, perfect poise, and a fabulous, gentle flourish on the finish that purifies and thrills. Another bottle alongside the ’38 at the Hélène Darroze dinner in London in March had survived the trip equally well. While the ’38 did not fade in the glass, the ’37 blossomed over time, becoming fresher and more expressive, with a melting texture less silky than velvety. Jasper Morris found the most fitting word to describe both the 1937 and the 1923 vintages following his tasting of 20 vintages back to 1918: “transcendental” (Inside Burgundy). | 98

1934 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Rodier era (régisseur Etienne Amiot). Considered an excellent vintage. Sunny and dry summer. Very hot, nearly at heatwave levels. Some rainfall in early September. Harvest: September 22. Abundant crop.

Astonishing clarity and intensity to the mid-ruby hue. Jacques admitted to finding this a little reticent on first sniff, but it continued to get fresher and fresher the longer it had in the glass. A fabulously ripe, sweet bouquet, with an almost vanilla-like richness and the cherry character that Thierry Brouin identified as a fruity hallmark, but here the cherries are in a clafoutis. Yet while that might give the impression of sumptuous weight, this is the most aérien, the most ethereal of all the perfumes so far. Similarly Musigny-like elegance, finesse, grace, and refinement but also Romanée-like richness and scale on the palate, with even greater harmony and formal perfection than the 1937, at once the finest, freshest, and grandest of the ’30s trio. As fellow guest Paolo Pong marveled, this vintage could be drunk with equal enjoyment at the 100-year mark in 2034. Spellbinding wine. | 99

1926 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Rodier era (régisseur Etienne Amiot). Considered an acceptable vintage. A cold June, which hindered flowering and resulted in coulure, followed by a hot, dry growing season. Harvest: September 29. Low yields. 

Still a beautifully clear mid-ruby, deeper in hue than the 1938, with an even gradation. A sublime old-rose scent, the antiquity applying far more to the breed of rose than the perfume rising from this, which is still so fine, focused, and fragrant, with sweet-herb freshness and mint-toffee sweetness, but also a carnal, sensual undertow; the “bed of crimson joy” in William Blake’s “The Sick Rose,” before it was found out by the worm. Fine-spun density and close-knit harmony on the palate, the integrity and intricacy intact, with astonishing freshness on the gracefully spiraling finish, without any shrillness. A little less richness and weight than the ’37 or the ’34, perhaps, but equally mesmerizing in its elegance and finesse. Collector Joe Tsai said he found the wine as exciting as La Tâche from the same period—not a comparison I am able to make, but I find it hard to imagine a wine from any period being more exciting than this. | 99

1923 Clos des Lambrays Grand Cru

Rodier era (régisseur Etienne Amiot). Considered an excellent vintage. A lot of coulure. From June 25, sunny weather and hydric stress. A north wind in September: cool, but bright and dry. Harvest: September 29. Low yields.

A similar depth of ruby to the 1926, with a slightly duller luster, perhaps, but still in very good heart for a 100-year-old wine. A more autumnal landscape is conjured up by the elegantly smoky scent, with charcuterie and, eventually, the reassuringly familiar mint-toffee top notes. Even better and fresher on the palate: beautifully silky and supple, but with very good definition, density, and intensity, and a flourishing finish of fabulous persistence. Another quite extraordinary wine. Around the table, some guests preferred the ’26, some the ’23, while my own preference swayed from one to the other and back again with every sip—the perfect comparative tasting, surely, with no winner and no loser. | 98

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Neil Beckett greets the inaugural release of Bruno Paillard Blanc de Noirs Grand Cru MV Extra-Brut a perfectly fitting new cuvée that highlights the austere beauty of northern Montagne de Reims Pinot Noir.

All good Champagne houses demonstrate meticulous attention to detail, offer a carefully considered and clearly differentiated range of wines, are guided by firmly held principles, set themselves high standards, and are sustained by a long-term vision. But none more so, perhaps, than Maison Bruno Paillard, now run by the brilliant and charming Alice Paillard, the daughter of the eponymous founder, who shares his ambition, passion, and perfectionism.

She came to London in September to launch the latest addition to the house’s impressive range—its first blanc de noirs—which is in some ways surprising, given that its flagship Brut Première Cuvée is Pinot Noir-dominant, apparently reflecting Bruno’s own preference and taste, and when there have long been both a Vintage and a Multi-Vintage blanc de blancs. But this is the last house that would be in a rush to round out the range with a style in which it was not completely convinced it had the right wine. Despite the extra-brut dosage across its entire range and the fashion for no-dosage Champagne, Bruno Paillard did not release its Zéro Dosage until 2018 (after a discontinued early trial in the mid-1980s). And when it was going to add a blanc de noirs, it was again going to be only when it was sure it had a distinctive and worthy wine.

Bruno Paillard Blanc de Noirs: A rich and precise expression

Alice explained the very clear image they had for the wine, its “raison d’être”: “A rich and precise expression of Pinot Noir from the northern crus of Champagne,” with a consistency of style that could come only from blending different vintages. She described Pinot Noir as a “noble and fragile” grape variety that she and her father prized for its “great finesse.” While they find many blancs de noirs “very opulent, very vinous, especially from the southern Montagne de Reims, that is not the idea here—we want to show another aspect, to have a different proposition.” 

Roughly two thirds of the blend come from the fashionable northern Montagne grands crus of Verzenay (where the house has acquired vineyards), Verzy, and Mailly, while the rest comes from the southern Montagne grand cru of Bouzy (where the house also owns vines; it now has an estate of 32ha [80 acres], all farmed organically or biodynamically, which provides some 60 percent of its grape requirements). The base vintage of the first release is 2018, with reserve wines from a perpetual reserve started in 2015; the reserve wines represent 12.5% of the inaugural release, but Alice explained that the 2019 base will have 25%, and the 2020 base more again, taking it closer to the high proportion (25–45%) elsewhere in the MV range. As there (roughly 20%), nearly one quarter (24% according to the typically detailed and helpful back label) has been barrel-fermented.

The wine will always have at least three years on its lees and six months post-disgorgement. The dosage for the first release is 3g/l; Alice agreed with her father that the wine would be “easier” with 1g/l more—but not, she added, “better,” explaining that they envisaged a graceful evolution in bottle and that, like the rest of the line, it is intended to be drunk with food (which the carefully chosen dishes at The Aubrey certainly vindicated). Asked at the French launch whether the wine was as she expected, Alice replied with admirable honesty and modesty that she had not known exactly what to expect: “It’s very early in its evolution, but I am happy it’s going in the right direction.” I should say so. And with both this initial release and subsequent releases, there is every promise that it will go from strength to strength.

Tasting

Bruno Paillard Blanc de Noirs Grand Cru MV Extra-Brut
(100% Pinot Noir; disgorged November 2022; dosage 3g/l)

Pale-to-medium Welsh gold, with a fine, persistent mousse (finer after a night in the fridge). All the hoped-for aromatic finesse and intrigue; different from different glasses and with time in the glass, of course, but both expressive and enigmatic from all of them—enigmatic in the sense that the harmony and intricacy of the aromatic weave is such that no scents dominate or even linger, floating fleetingly to the top then letting others have their brief and subtle word: fresh-baked bread (but nothing raw or yeasty), pink grapefruit (grilled with demerara sugar from larger glasses), red fruit (cranberry, redcurrant, raspberry), ginger, marine, oyster shell (but not at all too reductive), floral (rose) top notes; then with air, or in the larger glasses, white peach, acacia honey, white pepper. A finely integrated mousse, elegant and ever-rounder and silkier, the larger the glass. Perfect definition and tension, a cool edge without being edgy, the dosage perfect or on the way to being—the bent note before the final resolution—more than perfect in being so close that you can already clearly see how perfect it will be. A chalky, dry, powdery, persistent finish, the faintest bitterness and gentlest phenolic squeeze enhancing its huge gastronomic potential. A slightly austere, cool, serious beauty, a black horse at a comfortable canter—more Bach violin sonata or Schubert piano trio than Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy,” but no less moving and powerful for that. | 93–95

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Produced only in the very best vintages and in tiny quantities, Gosset Celebris, the house’s top wine, is extraordinary, says Neil Beckett—just don’t call it a prestige cuvée.

I should have known better. I was looking forward to the launch of the latest release of Gosset’s prestige cuvée. But it was even more exciting than that, as Gosset’s brilliant chef de cave Odilon de Varine gently chided and patiently reminded me: “Celebris is not a prestige cuvée—it’s an exceptional wine.” He always chooses his words carefully, and those were certainly appropriate. Exceptional not least because the 2012 Celebris is only the ninth Vintage release in the 35 years since the inaugural 1988, (see WFW 73, pp.84–87, for a review of the seven Vintage blanc, three Vintage rosé, and one Multi-Vintage blanc de blancs released up to that time, and WFW 78, p.60, for a preview of the 2012 Celebris Blanc de Blancs). But Gosset as a house is exceptional, too. It has always liked to do things differently, originally, as it has done ever since it was founded, by 1584 at the latest, making it the oldest wine house in Champagne.

If Gosset is very clear about what Celebris is not, it is, happily, equally clear about what it is: “the quintessence of the Gosset style […] its ultimate expression,” like the best of both Non-Vintage [Grande Réserve] and Vintage [Grand Millésime] together, as global business director Bertrand Verduzier explained, its avowed essential qualities being “freshness, structure, depth, and aging potential.”

The 2012 proves to be a shining example, embodying all four of those qualities. Odilon is keen to acknowledge the special nature of the vintage (always a precondition for a Celebris declaration), which he regards as the best of its decade (hence the first Celebris Blanc de Blancs Vintage also from this year). It certainly wasn’t an easy growing season, with losses first to frost, then to hail, and a difficult flowering period, which made for very variable levels of ripeness across the region, resulting in a harvest that lasted longer than a month. But the average potential alcohol levels (nearly 10%) and average acidity levels (nearly 8g/l) were “very interesting,” in Odilon’s words. And in a pleasing irony, all of the contrasts during the year, and all of the differences in the grapes—with appetizingly saline Chardonnay not only from the normal sources in the Côte des Blancs (Avize, Cramant, Le Mesnil-sur-Oger) but also from the Montagne de Reims (Ambonnay, Bouzy, Louvois, Trépail, Villers-Marmery) and the Vallée de la Marne (Avenay, Aÿ)—made possible a Celebris as beautifully balanced and complete as it is multifaceted.

Odilon regards 2012 as being a particularly successful vintage for Chardonnay, which has almost always been the dominant partner in the Celebris blend (1995 being the only vintage with a slight preponderance of Pinot Noir), and which in the 2012 reaches its highest proportion so far (70 percent). For Odilon, the 30 percent Pinot Noir contributes depth but also “helps the Chardonnay express itself,” while adding Chardonnay lees to the Pinot Noir (a technique first used for the 1990 Celebris) gave it “more freshness and more minerality”—qualities further heightened by the normal Gosset avoidance of malolactic fermentation and reliance on stainless-steel vessels. The blend spent more than nine years maturing (not “aging,” Odilon says; it is far more positive than that) on its lees.

The one aspect of its exceptional nature about which we can have mixed emotions is its scarcity: While average production quantities for Celebris are below 50,000 bottles—very low for a famous Champagne house—the production run for the 2012 is a mere 25,000 bottles. But if it were less exceptional in that respect, it would also be less gloriously exceptional in all other ways. 

2012 Gosset Celebris
(70% Chardonnay, 30% Pinot Noir; disgorged January 2023; dosage 5.5g/l)

White gold, with a very fine, persistent mousse. Exciting aromatic restraint on first sniff: exquisite, very finely pointed and precise, initially a subtle weave of fleurs blanches and sweetpeas, confit lemon, and light patisserie scents; even a faint whiff of vanilla (though not from any wood). Elegant on entry, finely taut but not tight, the tension of a perfectly tuned violin string, then gradually melting, softening, through an ethereal, flourishing, gracefully scintillating finish of great, gentle persistence. After a little time in the glass, a fragrance pleasingly reminiscent of great white Burgundy, with lime and linden; and after a little longer still, spicier, white-pepper notes. Alongside the very seductive 2012 Celebris Blanc de Blancs, to which we were also treated, this is a little less round: racier, sleeker, slicker, with more focus, tension, and tingle. After a first glass, Odilon transfers the wine into a decanter the same shape as the beautiful bottle in its original 1760 guise—a progression he recommends for the resulting “change of dimension.” Now the nose, not surprisingly, is broader, deeper, more open, the fruit (and even positive vegetal) notes more pronounced, the floral notes more exotic. What’s astonishing and much more surprising is that this expansion entails no loss of focus, intensity, or purity—indeed, the steely core shines even more brightly, revealed as the layers of the surrounding wrapping separate out and unfurl. The wine’s gastronomic potential was showcased by the meticulously prepared food at Ekstedt, and Odilon expects this 2012 Celebris to age as well as the currently spectacular 2002. 97

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Neil Beckett takes a special trip to Velaa Private Island, an exclusive Maldivian resort that is celebrating its tenth anniversary this year, and finds a gastronomic paradise with an astonishing food and wine offer.

From above, the many smaller islands of the Maldives look like giant smoke rings in a two-tone sea of teal and turquoise, their beauty matched only by their fragility and seeming simplicity. It is hard to imagine doing much more on them than eking out a Robinson Crusoe-like existence, subsisting on coconuts and crabs, seaweed and white snapper—harder still to imagine creating a luxurious paradise for food and wine lovers, not only sun worshippers or water babies. Yet that is exactly what billionaire Czech entrepreneur and financier Jiří Šmejc and his wife Radka set out to do when they bought what is now Velaa Private Island ten years ago. And they have succeeded in fine style. No “demi-paradise” this—it’s complete. But it is mini, an almost-perfect circle of little more than 500 yards (500m) across. You can easily saunter all the way around its dazzling white-sand circumference in half an hour. The broad oval shape resembles a turtle—velaa, in Dhivehi, the language of the Maldives—and turtles, mock and real, are everywhere (except the soup).

All along the archipelago—some 540 miles (868km) long from north to south, with an area of more than 8,000 sq miles (21,000 sq km)—many of the Maldives’ 1,200 islands are beautiful, and more than a few are now home to luxurious hotels and resorts. (Among the many Dhivehi words for an island is huraa.) But none, surely, is more breathtakingly beautiful, exclusive, or luxurious than Velaa, on the Noonu Atoll 116 miles (187km) north of the capital Malé, whose impressive list of accolades grows longer year by year. (The latest haul can be found on its informative website velaaprivateisland.com and in its inspiring in-house magazine there, Velaa Moments.) 

Arriving on one of Velaa’s own seaplanes, flown the 45 minutes from Malé by two barefoot pilots in shorts, we were warmly welcomed at the Arrival Pavillion by no fewer than six staff, including Wayne Milgate, the experienced and hospitable Australian general manager; Lisa Jakobsson, the dazzlingly efficient and spirited Swedish director of PR, marketing, and events; and Addo, our butler (a model of courteous charm and discreet efficiency, who appeared as if by magic only whenever needed or wanted).

A maximum of some 150 guests are looked after by some 450 staff, including 26 gardeners. (All those exquisite orchids on trees don’t get there by themselves.) All of those we met were unfailingly friendly and helpful, evincing a genuine sense of warmth and welcome. And despite the small size of the island, it never seems small, still less crowded. The circular shape and the clever arrangement of the carefully manicured meandering “roads” in the sand mean that the next attraction is always just around the next bend, as if tracing the scutes on a turtle’s back. It is possible to walk all around the island seeing hardly another soul. And for those who don’t want to walk, there are bikes at every apartment, as well as buggies driven by the butlers whenever required.

The 3o or so beach pool villas, deluxe beach pool villas, and larger private residences around the edge of the island are all as secluded as they could be, sheltered by the tall, lush tropical vegetation, and even the 18 water pool villas on stilts, including the Romantic Pool Residence accessible only by boat, all look out to sea, so there is never any sense of being overlooked. All of the accommodation is elegantly stylish and supremely comfortable. (The “pillow menu,” running to 12 options, is longer than many good by-the-glass wine lists, even in the Coravin era.) Following refurbishments over four months in 2022, there is now a new gym, a kids’ club, a yoga pavillion and Pilates studio, a spa, a wellbeing village, a water sports and dive center, a nine-hole golf course designed by José María Olazábal, complete with a resident PGA professional, and badminton, squash, and tennis courts, where some of the world’s top tennis stars offer lessons and play matches. Among the artistic evening entertainments are ballet and opera (a recent production of Carmen involving soloists from the Metropolitan Opera in New York) and all kinds of music, from classical and jazz, to pop and rock (though never so loud as to break the restful tranquility of the residences).

Athiri and Tavaru restaurants

The sheer quality and range of the food and wine offering is as astonishing as it is thrilling. (No wonder that among Velaa’s latest accolades was Asia’s Best Fine Dining Hotel in the 2022 Boutique Hotel Awards.) Culinary director Gaushan De Silva, who used to cook for the Jordanian royal family, presides over a brigade of chefs of 14 different nationalities, who compile eclectic menus based on the cuisine of different nationalities, though many local dishes also figure prominently. Everything we ate was impeccably cooked and presented, well balanced and proportioned in terms of seasoning and serving size. 

There are now four restaurants (including Faiy, opening this year), plus the Avi Pool Bar, the Beach Bar, and the Cru Champagne Bar out on the water. At Athiri, the all-day beachfront restaurant, the buffet breakfast and lunch offer an extraordinary cornucopia of delicious delicacies—from freshly baked bread and pastries, through fresh fruit, sushi and sashimi, to myriad cooked dishes, including fragrant local curries. At one lunch, where the brilliantly entertaining and knowledgeable Ahu wanted us to taste two local fish with a range of very different chilies (three Maldivian, one Thai), we enjoyed perfectly cooked and served grouper and white snapper, marveling at the mellow depth, as well as the fiery heat of the spices. Any excess heat was quickly tempered by the best coconut milk we had ever tasted—from yellow coconuts, which, Ahu assured us, are better than green or orange—gloriously rich and sweet and totally unlike the thin gray water I’d sipped with bafflement and disappointment after Pyrrhic victories at the coconut shy in my childhood. The pearly white flesh of the same coconut, as tender as the white of a softly boiled egg, made a nourishing but refreshing dessert. À la carte dinner options at Athiri in the evening, when it is possible to eat at candlelit tables on the beach, were equally rewarding.

Tavaru Restaurant, atop the Tavaru Wine Tower—at three stories high, the tallest architectural structure at any Maldivian island resort—affords superb views, as well as flamboyantly but fastidiously prepared teppanyaki grill food. Here, the highly skilled young chef Mark does well not to set himself on fire or lose a finger as he twirls the tools of his trade as speedily as a cartoon western gunslinger spins his guns. While he candidly describes himself as “a fake Japanese chef” (he’s from the Philippines), he studied with some very good real ones, starting as a dishwasher then volunteering to work an extra three hours a day in return for cooking lessons. He catches the ear with his talk and the eye with his tricks, but he also captivates the palate with the flavors and textures of his cuisine. 

Guests may also arrange bespoke wine tastings with food, for various tastes, in the temperature-controlled Tavaru Wine Cellar under the restaurant. Here is housed what is described as “the most exclusive collection of wine in the Indian Ocean,” including “the largest collection of Burgundy in the Maldives”—both claims entirely credible, despite the presence these days of other very impressive cellars at hotels on Madagascar and Mauritius, as well as elsewhere in the Maldives. Some 90 percent of the wines are sourced direct from the producers, and only 10 percent through the trade, to reduce as far as possible the risk of fraud—a serious consideration, given the many very expensive, very recherché wines on offer here (on which more below).

We were treated to a fascinating and fun tasting generously hosted and shared by Wayne Milgate and expertly conducted by the passionate and well-qualified Maldivian sommelier Musto. We hadn’t given any indication of what we might like to taste, but Musto read us like a book, intuitively sensing that we might like a mix of the more and less familiar, from the Old and New Worlds: 2014 Clos Rougeard Saumur Brezé (still green-apple and herbal Chenin Blanc to smell, but densely layered, with great intensity of flavor and length); 2016 Evening Land Seven Springs Chardonnay (discreet, pure, herbal-mineral, and steely, with a gently flourishing finish); 2002 Château de Latour Clos de Vougeot Vieilles Vignes (cool, black-fruited, beguilingly silky, but still with excellent freshness and proper power); and 2016 Kaesler Old Bastard Shiraz (darkly spicy, glossy, and richly woven, the intensity from the ancient vines matched by the purity). Rajat Parr, the sommelier-turned-wine producer in California and Oregon, and the source of the Evening Land, is clearly an inspiration for Musto (and not only because he introduced another Parr wine, Sandhi, to one guest at Velaa who proceeded to drink all 36 bottles of that vintage during his stay). All four of the wines Musto served us showed very well—testimony to their provenance and storage, as well as to their selection and treatment (both of the reds brought up to the correct temperature and opened one hour prior to serving).

Still barely 3o years old, Musto has been a sommelier here for only three years but has been working in wine for 12; he was barely of drinking age when he started studying with the Wine & Spirit Education Trust in London. He modestly says that for him, as for many of his compatriots who didn’t get straight A grades at school, hospitality was his “only option”—but he seems to have been getting straight As ever since and has embraced his profession wholeheartedly. Achieving the highest score for a student in Southeast Asia the year he sat his WSET Level 3 exam won him a scholarship to Champagne. One of his colleagues at Velaa, Imma, has also reached WSET Level 3, and equally admirable in its way is that 90 percent of the food-and-beverage and front-office staff at Velaa have at least a WSET Level 1 qualification. Ibbe, the young waiter who served us one evening at Athiri, was well able to extol the virtues of the Leclerc Briant Rosé NV, the 2020 Schloss Gobelsburg Riesling, and the 2018 Château de Meursault Clos du Château that we’d requested.

The commitment of the owners and managers to staff development and training is exceptionally high and is reflected in the exemplary standard of the service that the staff offer. Even when the resort was closed for its four months of refurbishment last year, all of the staff were paid, and the owners asked Milgate to select some 30 of them—not only chefs, sommeliers, and servers, but butlers, gardeners, hairdressers, and spa staff—who were sent all around the world to refine their skills, learning from the very best in their field. It may not be quite so surprising, therefore, but it is still telling— especially in an industry with such high staff turnover—that many of the staff have been at the resort for years, some ever since it opened, and several spoke with seeming sincerity of belonging to the “Velaa family.” The English spa manager (one of those there from the very start) contrasted the accessibility and attentiveness of Velaa’s owners, who visit the island four or five times a year, with the impersonal, impenetrable layers of management in a large multinational hotel group—a difference as stark as that between the congestion and pollution of the beach in the seaside town where she grew up (when it was possible to be on it at all) and the pristine solitude of the beach surrounding Velaa.

Aragu Restaurant 

In glorious isolation, at the end of a long wooden walkway over the shallow aquamarine waters of the lagoon, sits Aragu Signature Restaurant and Cru Champagne Bar. While real rays and small black- and white-tipped sharks (not dangerous, I was assured at the dive center by Fazeel, another member of staff there from the beginning) swim underneath, a whole glide of brightly colored flying fish, not real, fortunately, soar suspended through the spacious dining room.

The Aragu wine list is the most extensive at the resort. It may not be the largest in the Indian Ocean, but it still runs to some 30 pages, offering around 1,000 wines—and it may well be the most exclusive; it is exceptional for the depth and height of its selections, as well as for its suitability to the affluent clientele and the cuisine (which is described as “contemporary European with an Asian twist”).

Among the good by-the-glass options are Delamotte Blanc de Blancs and Rosé NV; Schloss Gobelsburg Riesling and Vacheron Les Romains Sancerre; Domaine Dugat-Pÿ Bourgogne Cuvée Halinard and La Dame de Montrose; and Les Carmes de Rieussec Sauternes (to highlight only some of the French options).

The Champagne selection (also available at the Cru Bar), some 70 cuvées strong, is headed by Delamotte, the “signature” Champagne house, while its suitably exclusive sister house Salon is also very well represented, with vintages stretching back to the 1970 Delamotte Collection Blanc de Blancs in magnum and the 1971 Salon in magnum. (There are also other Salon magnums, from the sublime 1983, to the spectacular 2008.) But while other top houses and great mature vintages are also here in generous profusion (Billecart-Salmon, Bollinger, Deutz, Dom Pérignon, Henriot, Krug, Laurent-Perrier, Pol Roger, Roederer, Ruinart, Taittinger...), so, too, are leading growers and smaller houses (Dhondt-Grellet, Fleury, Pierre Gimonnet, Jacquesson, Leclerc Briant, Pierre Péters, Philipponnat, Eric Rodez, Savart…).

The Champagne section sets the stylish tone that the rest of the list maintains. There are many of the great and the good from Bordeaux—all five first growths and all of the super-seconds on the Left Bank; Ausone, Cheval Blanc, and Figeac, Petrus, Le Pin, and Vieux Château Certan on the Right Bank, most going back decades, some to the 1920s. And the equivalents from Burgundy—Bouchard Père & Fils, Dugat-Py, Dujac, Lafon, Leflaive, Leroy, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti (back to 1959 La Tâche in magnum and 1978 La Romanée-Conti), Roumier (including four vintages of Chambolle-Musigny Les Amoureuses stretching back 20 years), and Rousseau (including Chambertin, Chambertin-Clos de Bèze, and Gevrey-Chambertin Clos St-Jacques).

Most of the wines are French, but there are also famous names from Italy (Altare, Biondi-Santi, Dal Forno, Gaja, Masseto, Solaia, Terlan) and Spain (Alvaro Palacios and Descendientes de J Palacios, Pingus, Roda, and Vega-Sicilia); California (Dominus, Harlan, Opus One, and Screaming Eagle) and Australia (Kaesler, Penfolds, and Torbreck). There are also a few very fine but much less expensive options—from Austria and Germany (Schloss Gobelsburg and Bassermann-Jordan and Dönnhoff Riesling); from California (Calera and Domaine de la Côte); from South Africa (Boekenhoutskloof and Sadie Family); and from New Zealand (Dog Point and Felton Road).

The affable, deeply knowledgeable, and widely traveled food and beverage director Davide Guidi—who arrived in 2022 after stints at grand hotels in London (The Dorchester, The Lanesborough, The Four Seaons Park Lane), as well as elsewhere in Europe and Asia—is aware that there are areas of the list that could be developed, not only with wines from his native Italy, though these are clearly close to his heart. Not even wine lovers who could afford to do so want to drink Champagne prestige cuvées, Bordeaux first growths, and Burgundy grands crus all the time. But it is a glittering treasure trove that Velaa has been able to assemble—especially remembering that it will be celebrating only its tenth anniversary this year—and rounding out the selection with a few more options for its more adventurous and curious wine-savvy guests will be relatively straightforward.

Special wine dinners

When he captured the magic of two very special Château Latour dinners at another elite Maldives resort more than 15 years ago, Michael Schuster revealed the way in which Latour president Frédéric Engerer wanted, in his words, “to get rid of the idea that certain wines should be drunk here, but not there” (see WFW 16,pp.80–87). Other crème de la crème producers have shared that dream since, to the extent that enjoying their wines with haute cuisine in idyllic, remote, tropical settings no longer seems quite such the “delectable incongruity,” as Michael put it, that it did in 2007. Delectable, yes; incongruous, no longer.

Among those fine-wine producers is certainly Didier Depond, the capable, charming, and discreet president of Salon and Delamotte, who has been willing to supply Velaa with venerable vintages from both twin houses. In February 2022 and again in February this year, he has been there to present meticulously prepared Salon and Delamotte dinners in Aragu, in association with the boutique Argentinian producer Tiano & Nareno, represented by its founder Dr Ariel Savina, for the still red wine to go with one of the meat courses.

I was fortunate enough to be at last year’s dinner, and memorably special it was. Elsewhere in this issue, Michael Schuster has described the exquisite pleasures of the Delamotte and Salon far more evocatively than I ever could (see this issue, pp.70–72), so it should suffice here to give a brief description of the menu and the wines at the Aragu dinner and to applaud not only the very high quality of the food, the wines, and the service, but also the success of the imaginative but sensitive pairings: 

Delamotte Blanc de Blancs NV

Yellowfin tuna (raw, stuffed with olives and walnuts, goat cream, truffle caper dressing)

Delamotte Blanc de Blancs 2014

Spanner crab (steamed, avocado, yuzu, caviar)

Salon S 1997

Maldivian lobster (slow-cooked tail, cauliflower, spinach, sesame emulsion, puffed rice)

Delamotte Rosé NV

Barbary duck (ragù, Parmesan tortellini, rosemary oil, redcurrant reduction)

Tiano & Nareno 2015

Japanese Ohmi A5 (chargrilled tenderloin, potato, porcini sabayon, foie gras jus)

Salon S 2012

Cheese (Comté, Parmesan, Brie)

Delamotte Blanc de Blancs NV

Citrus saffron jelly (espuma mandarin and lemon sorbet)

The Tiano & Nareno calls for a little more explanation, since it will be less familiar than Salon to most. It may appear completely different from Salon in some ways but is actually very close in spirit. A fascinating boutique project, it was started by Dr Ariel Savina, a distinguished medical researcher, who is the grandson of the eponymous Sebastiano and Nazzareno, who emigrated to Argentina from Italy in 1908 and spent 50 years acquiring around Mendoza prime parcels of Malbec and Cabernet Franc. The next generation had other ambitions and sold the vineyards; but with great determination and passion, Ariel has gradually been able to buy Malbec and Cabernet Franc grapes from many of the same old parcels, with an average age of around 85 years. He was inspired by his family history, by old Argentinian Malbecs he tasted from the 1970s, and by Salon in terms of the very highest quality and the rarity and selectivity required to reach it. (Didier Depond is also a business partner in the project.) 

Ariel started the venture in 2005, but 2010 (100% Malbec) was the first vintage, and since then only three other vintages have been released—2013, 2014, and 2015 (2017 will be next)—a result of the decision to produce the wine only in suitably fine years. The production is tiny; there were only 880 magnums of the 2010, 5,300 bottles and a few magnums of the 2015, and only half as much of the 2017. The 2015, a blend of 85% Malbec and 15% Cabernet Franc, matured in 50% new oak, is a very lovely wine: expressive but subtle in its elegant fragrance, as much floral and herbal as fruity or spicy, with a faint whiff of incense, becoming a little more leathery and savory with air; then on the palate, effortlessly intense and seamless, fresh, flowing, graceful, silky, and supple, with the gentlest grip on the lingering finish. A rara avis, but well worth catching if ever you spot it. 

Other high-end producers who have recently staged wine dinners on Velaa include Hervé Berland, chief executive of Château Montrose (in January 2023), and more are planned, so anybody in the happy position of being able to attend should keep a careful eye on the program there via the Velaa website. Michelin-starred chefs from around the world also make special guest appearances, working alongside the talented home team.

Luxury and sustainability

The idea of flying thousands of miles, at least the last hundred in a private plane where there may be as many crew as passengers, to indulge in a dazzling array of luxurious food and wine, all of which also has to be flown or shipped in, will give any responsible traveler pause for thought. But environmental responsibility and sustainability come in several forms. Ahu recalled that the coconut (kurum’baa) that was merely an exotic embellishment to one of our lunches had been, as recently as the years after World War II, almost the only source of nourishment for his parents and others of their generation on neighboring islands, its milk injected into those suffering from dysentery. Over the past ten years, Velaa has offered many young Maldivians far more opportunities for education and employment than it did as a farm for chilies and rice, though an old stone building, now a small museum, has been preserved as a memorial of that way of life and those times. (Jiří Šmejc is also the active chairman of Sirius Foundation, the charity he created to help underprivileged young people more widely.) The hundreds of staff on Velaa are housed in the center of the island but are allowed to have family members on other islands visit them and to make home visits in return. Even the fine-dining offerings on the island are increasingly sustainable, using more and more local, seasonal ingredients. A dedicated team of marine biologists based on the island is working on the most ambitious coral-restoration program in the Maldives, to help protect the ecosytem in the surrounding seas, and guests can adopt individual coral lines, receiving regular updates on their progress.

The fragility of the Maldives, in the face of climate change and ever-rising sea levels, makes their allure all the more compelling—indeed, well-nigh irresistible, for those with the wherewithal—now, as long as it doesn’t hasten their disappearance. If all of them do eventually sink beneath the waves, Bacchus and Faunus will surely be begging Neptune to make Velaa their last huraa.

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